Manic Shooter is one of three new cd-r's on The Upstairs cd-r label, run by Daniel Lopatin aka Oneohtrix Point Never aka KGB Man aka one third of the trio that is Manic Shooter, this is the first we've heard from these guys but it definitely fits in with the Upstairs stable (Flower Man, Nonhorse, that Radio Scenic Glow comp), some futuristic sci-fi synth soundtrack weirdness, that veers from minimal beat heavy drift to garbled collaged whatthefuck, to atmospheric ambience, all run through that distinctly cracked Upstairs future/retro filter: clipped electronic beats get all twisted up by warped effects, hovering like UFOs over a field of distant high end squiggle and washed out shimmer, which gives way to some murky submerged vocal late-night swirl, before fracturing into a super distorted crawl through bad-reception radio, before settling into some skeletal synth skitter. Elsewhere hushed minimal synthesizer wheeze gets molded into a darkly propulsive Blade Runner groove, laced with warped bass and ultra creepy sped up vox, and so it goes, a dizzying trawl through some late night futuristic underworld rendered in blurred ambience, and short attention span soundscape, haunting and unnerving, mysterious and weirdly evocative, lovely here and there for sure, but definitely freaky and frightening in equal measures.
LIMITED TO LESS THAN 100 COPIES! We only got a handful, you do the math...
Martyn was responsible for one of our favorite records of 2009, Great Lengths, which found him tweaking and turning dubstep into a completely different monster, infusing that distinctive sound with all the best aspects of so many sides of electronic music. So it's well deserved and fitting that he's in the captain's chair for the 50th installment of the legendary Fabric mix series, putting together a manic, uptempo 71+ minute mix of TOTAL BANGERS! No denying how seamless and flawless his mixing skills are as each track jets right into the next, and his taste for some of the most colorful and exuberant artists in the modern landscape of electronica couldn't be more satisfying. Zomby, Kode9, 2562, Joy Orbison, those are just some of the awesome artists who get the Martyn mix treatment. There are no lulls or sleepers in the mix, from start to finish this is total high octane dancefloor destroying energy. Martyn definitely focuses on the more bouncy, techno and pounding side of dubstep, but really what we love about Martyn is that he doesn't get lost or locked into narrow or restrictive electronic sub-genres, instead he's more concerned with moving bodies at a dizzying rate and he so totally succeeds with this killer mix!
Most of the metal bands we've heard who sing in Portuguese are from Brazil. This band, though, actually hails from Portugal itself, the old country as it were, and appropriately keep their metal old school as well. We can imagine 'em playing shows with their countrymen Ironsword, since they're both traditional '80s styled metallers. However, whereas Ironsword sing in English, and musically pay tribute to cult heroes Manilla Road, these guys, as we said, instead sing in their native tongue, and seem most inspired by early (Di'Anno era) Iron Maiden and other NWOBHM acts (plus pre-NWOBHMers Judas Priest no doubt).
There's six triumphant tracks here on this 29-minute debut disc, nice and heavy, raw and rippin', displaying a definite knack for riffs, making good use of their twin guitar attack. The vocals are melodic but rather gruff and aggressive, coming from a fellow simply called The Priest. Everybody else in the band seems to have not only stage names but nicknames too. Like, guitarist Rod Wolf (which can't be his real name!) is also known as "The Mystical", and the allegedly named Wartank Alex also gets called "Animal", naturally enough 'cause he's the drummer. All that, plus the cartoon-like band portrait tell us these guys aren't the most serious band ever. Yet their music doesn't sound like they're fooling around, they manage to not only kick out some awesome riffage but also generate and atmosphere that can get genuinely dark and epic.
There's definitely something quite likable about this band, regardless of the language barrier. Heck, the singer wears glasses (which is pretty cool we think, since a lot of us here do too). Also, and more importantly, despite our not knowing what he's singing about, he still manages to command our attention. As do the guitars, and those we do understand!
FINALLY AVAILABLE ON CD! Here's what we said when we reviewed the now out of print vinyl 12" version:
All right! Moon Duo returns with another hazed out transmission from some lost dimension (otherwise known as San Francisco), this one courtesy of the always cool Sacred Bones label. The duo (obviously) features Ripley Johnson from local heroes Wooden Shjips, and their sound is not too far removed from Ripley's main band, maybe a little more ethereal and not quite as overtly "rocking", but definitely following a similar path of hypnotic, fuzzy repetition that we can't get enough of.
Moon Duo are capable of creating powerful songs from very little and they obviously understand the power of simplicity. Each of the four songs on this ep utilize the same hypnotic drum machine groove, altered to various pitches and speeds to accommodate each individual song. The result is like a mechanical heartbeat, throbbing relentlessly with krauty precision, and almost serving as some sort of chain to link each of the songs together. The record begins with "Killing Time", which sounds a bit like a Joy Division part looped forever as the soft, distorted vocals lurk beneath melodic guitars and fuzzy background static. With its buzzing organ and controlled feedback, "Speed" rocks a bit like Suicide augmented by shrieking guitar pulses and, uh, harmonica? Maybe. The cool thing here is how sounds blend together in a cyclone of warm, pulsating analog goodness. At times you are unaware of what you're hearing, and even though it gets noisy and overblown, the results are always catchy and super melodic.
Side 2 begins with "Dead West", which has a cool underwater feel. The song fucks with your perception of time and place, as it could have been recorded 40 years ago or 40 years from now. Sonically, it is a bit reminiscent of fellow California space travelers Sun Araw with its percussive guitar strumming and shimmering psychedelic feel, as a little keyboard melody stands at the center of things while the rest of the sounds oscillate all over the place. "Ripples" gives off a Spacemen 3 vibe as the drumbeat is slowed significantly. The guitars have a nice bit of twang to them, and the sounds once again appear to get caught in some sort of musical whirlpool as they merge together before a cool fadeout.
Picking up where the last ep left off, Killing Time finds Moon Duo descending even deeper into a state of super rhythmic, dreamy psychedelia. Just the way we like it.
Watch out Girls (the band!) cause there's another sweet sounding Bay Area pop band we think could be the next big 'breakout' Bay Area band. Well, except for the fact that they've moved away to Brooklyn or someplace already. With Big Echo, their Rough Trade debut, The Morning Benders have created a sweeping and sensational indie pop record that brings to mind a more driving, sunshiney Grizzly Bear, The Shins at their most effervescent, and Death Cab For Cutie at their most triumphant. While there has been no shortage of bands drawing from similar influences, there is something so warm and sincere about The Morning Benders' sound. The songs never feel forced and resonate with an authentic heartfelt quality. The album brimming with totally catchy hooks, the kind that should be blasting all over commercial radio in a perfect world. If (like us) you love exquisite indie pop that stays in your head and just begs to find its way on to a mix tape for your secret crush, you can't do much better than The Morning Benders!
A new batch of Upstairs cd-r's means a whole bunch of cool spaced out synthy weirdness, which makes sense as Upstairs is the microlabel run by Daniel Lopatin, the man who is also sometimes known as Oneohtrix Point Never.
Geoff Mullen and Keith Fullerton Whitman are both long time aQ faves, but even so, they seemed like a weird choice for an Upstairs cd-r, since the label tends toward lo-fi synth obscurities, but the duo have worked together in the past, and in those collaborations displayed a propensity for space-y sounds, some Radiophonic Workshop bleeps and bloops, cosmic electronics, swirling supernova squiggles, all of which are in full effect here, woven into weirdly propulsive krautdrones, or infused into some skittery minimal thump and shuffle, while the tracks sprawl and ooze and expand into dubbed out abstract blurscapes, laced with sci-fi streaks of planetarium ambience, wrapped around starfields of glitch and crunch, slow burning Blade Runner ballads, loping synthy swirls blurred into otherworldly edge of the universe, celestial sub atomic dreamscapes, a gorgeous space-y bit of electronic bliss. Lovely indeed.
LIMITED TO LESS THAN 100 COPIES. We got a bunch, but these will most likely go pretty quick so grab one while you can.
For everyone who missed out on that last Nekrasov, which is probably most folks as it was a cd-r limited to 50 copies, half of which we got and sold in a flash, here's another new full length, from this Australian black metal / blacknoize terrorist, and this one is also limited, but never fear, not nearly as limited as that last one, and it's an actual cd, so we should have these for a while, a little while at least.
Which is good news, cuz this might be the best Nekrasov yet, let's start with the packaging, wow, a gorgeous and grim 6 panel sleeve, with intense black and green paintings, each panel featuring variations of the new super intense NKRSV logo printed in reflective clear ink, so striking, and pretty representative of the sounds within.
For those new to Nekrasov, his sound is a blasting blackness almost entirely ensconced in blacknoise, a swirling chaotic squall of hiss and grinding skree and blown out howl, within which lurks frantic riffing, relentless drumming, although much of the time, it feels implied more than actually heard. Like WOLD, Nekrasov rewards close listening, headphones strapped on, reveals a crumbling, abject hellish sound world, hateful and harsh and harrowing, it doesn't get much more brutal than this, or noisy, but on Cognition Of Splendid Oblivion more than even, Nekrasov finds a balance, letting the noise swallow certain portions whole, but dialing the noise back in places, giving us glimpses if riff or melody, of blast, ror texture. And the noise itself, is not straight up Merzbowian brutality, there's definitely nuance, almost like the noise is an artifact of the guitars being TOO distorted, the drums TOO crushing, the vokills TOO brutal...
"Psychic Epilepsy In The Butcher Of Light" might be the heaviest thing Nekrasov has recorded, the riffs seemingly MADE out of noise, churning, throbbing, the vocals struggling to be heard through the sheer crush of the riffs, the drums no more than a distant pulse. But within this black buzzing void, the sounds grow epic and majestic, soaring and struggling to shine through the thick black clouds of sound.
The other cool thing about Nekrasov that we may have mentioned before is the breadth of tone and timbre, the noise is multi dimensional, and varies from track to track, because it's not just noise for noise sake, it's part of the composition, an integral part, so sometimes the sound is hissy and brittle, other times murky and muddy, some track get all shoegazey and blissed out, others threaten to gouge your eardrums out. The second to last track starts out all dreamy and washed out, then the BM kicks in, sans noise, and we're treated to a rare glimpse of the buzz and blast behind the curtain, before the final track crushes everything in its path with some of the densest and pummeling noise possible, and even then, it's weirdly listenable, twisted and textured, a swirling blackness that grinds and howls and blasts and buzzes until finally slipping into oblivion.
Seems like Sacred Bones can do no wrong. The last year they've given us records from Gary War, Blank Dogs, Zola Jesus, Cultural Decay, 13th Chime, Moon Duo, Carl Simmons, and Vermillion Sands, and now Nice Face, aka Ian Magee, who definitely fits right in with the current movement of lo-fi garage pop weirdness, a la Thee Oh Sees, Ty Segall, Blank Dogs, etc, but Nice Face is a much more twisted affair. Not sure how we missed out on this guy until now, this is in fact a collection of previously released jams, originally released on three different labels, including two on Sacred Bones, hardly matters, what matters is we have em now, and they have been totally kicking our asses.
Falling somewhere between former aQ Record Of The Weekers Night Control AND former aQ Record Of The Weekers Blank Dogs, it seemed sort of inevitable that we would fall in love with Nice Face as well, short sharp blasts of crunchy, synth laced, home brewed, cold wave flecked garage pop, super catchy, but plenty twisted, and beyond the more contemporary influences, we hear plenty of classic power pop, old new wave, old school punk rock, all tweaked and twisted into this right here. We could go song by song and describe every one, they all rule, but we'll just pick out a few of our favorites which should definitely give you a feel for the weirdo damaged pop world of Nice Face.
"Decipher" is a haunting synth heavy instrumental, with a KILLER hook, the whole track swirly and subtly warped, that sounds like one of the best songs Blank Dogs never released. "I Want Your Damage" is a spacey pop gem, with super delayed vocals, and a Tesltars main melody, lots of effects, weird synth melodies, imagine if Joe Meek were alive today, this is the sort of thing he'd be whipping up in his apartment home studio. "A Minor Altercation" is classic eighties power pop and sounds like it was yanked right off one of those Yellow Pills comps, "A Gaping Gash" is like a lo-fi reimagining of that Depeche Mode / Gary Numan collaboration that never really happened. "Beater" is a blasting garage rock blow out, that does Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall one better, with fuzzy synths, another killer hook, gothy and new wave-y, not to mention the retarded, freaked out synth solo WAY up in the mix. "Had To Let You Know" is another total eighties new wave jam, minor key and mysterious, super reverbed and groovy, sounds almost like the Stooges filtered through Joy Division and Gary Numan. And on and on it goes. How does this guy do it. Every song is insanely catchy, but totally different than the one that came before it, and even though the songs are all over the map, and this is a collection of tracks from different releases, it totally flows, and plays perfectly, like somehow, it was meant to be what it is, a single perfect fucked up outsider pop record. So rad.
G. Lucas Crane is the man behind the dead-eyed tape excursions he broadcasts as Nonhorse; and he's the same G. Lucas Crane who can also be found in the equally as psychedelic, but far less grim projects Woods and Vanishing Voice. It's all about the cassette for Nonhorse, how the hiss accumulates over multiple dubbings, how crappy tape heads can fuck up the sound, how the machines start, stop, rewind, and fast-forward against the tape itself. The door creaking loop that begins Shadow World is a very low-tech translation of Philip Jeck's equally low-tech turntable rhythms; and the crawling synth rhythm takes this somewhere way more phantasmagoric than anything Jeck has produced. Floating monastic vocals spiral against the agitated delivery of shortwave radio transmissions from a Christian evangelist. These kaleidoscopic revolutions haphazardly tumble in and out of the simple overlapping structures, eventually mutating into a thumbing mess of pre-recorded tinklings from synthetic bells while clarinets tumble about some drill 'n' bass breaks appropriated from Hrvatski's missing-in-action Oiseaux 96-98 album, all of which is augmented through start-and-stop strategies on the tape decks, through a chain-linked fence of delay and reverb. As a willfully confused collage of warped hiss, toxic noise, and corroded found sound, Shadow World is a throw-back to the tape-trading heyday of cassette culture permeated by the likes of Solid Eye, Blackhumour, AMK, and Premature Ejaculation. You don't see this type of stuff kicking around much these days, that's for sure!
Released in several tiny editions through Upstairs, which has already sold out of all of their copies, meaning these few copies are all we will ever get!
So here's a question that may not need to be answered: did Pink Floyd come up with the idea of hosting lazer shows in planetariums for Dark Side of the Moon or was it a groundswell of psychedelically minded astronomers who took up the cause independently of the band? Obviously, a planetarium would make for a fantastic venue for a psychedelically bent excursion for light and sound. Just drop a tab or pull a hit, sit back in a comfortable space surrounded by kaleidoscopic lazer effects with decent surround sound, and go for a cosmic trip. So, why not have something other than what has become a yawning standard of the planetarium soundtrack? Why not something really lysergic like Nurse With Wound?
In Melbourne, Australia, somebody's willing to explore the cosmos with something far more alien and far more challenging; thus the commission for Nurse With Wound to score a piece for the Melbourne Planetarium's Science In The Dark Series. On the whole, this is a quiet subliminal piece of music with eerie charges of electricity and echoing pools of sustained pure tones, all of which set against low hovering rumbles and deep-gasping drones. Yup, Stapleton (here working with Colin Potter and Andrew Liles) has successfully sutured together the strategies for tonal beauty from his immaculate Soliloquy To Lilith with the very special nothing music of A Missing Sense. While 95 percent of Space Music is cosmic solitude and deep-space floating for Nurse With Wound, the other 5 percent is filled with huge ruptures of exploding noise burst forth during an early interlude of the album, followed by mangled bits of alien speech. Pretty awe-inspiring as with most every Nurse With Wound record. It probably would sound pretty fucking great in a Planetarium, too!
The handful of folks who recently experienced the blown out rhythmic dronebliss joy that is Our Love Will Destroy the World (aka Campbell Kneale formerly of Birchville Cat Motel) when he was in SF recently performing on THE BUS, will not soon forget that show: a diminutive, bearded New Zealander, on his knees, cradling his guitar in front of a bank of effects, eyes closed, swaying back and forth in a trance, unleashing some of the heaviest, most mesmerizing freenoise we've heard. A neverending avalanche of layered sound, pulsing and throbbing and churning, rhythms surfacing, splintering and then disappearing, a monstrous, yet totally warm and inviting cloud of sound, a sound which is perfectly captured on this two track slab of buzz and crunch and hum and hiss.
Guitars gurgle and grind, riffs pulled apart, a heaving swirl of constantly shifting layers, a chaotic cacophony that seems to slowly take shape, what was once noise becomes a sculpted soundscape, what was once a cloud of glitches and stutters, turns into rhythm, and the track sucks you in, totally entrancing, heavy, noisy, yeah, but completely and utterly hypnotic, little bits of melody pop up now and again, but are quickly subsumed by the moaning peals of downtuned crush, and once the rhythm locks in, you are powerless to resist.
The B-side is a little less intense, a constantly shifting and evolving cloud of hiss, barely obscuring a symphony of mechanical creaks which slowly coalesce into a strange sort of rickety rhythm, while all around voices hover, melodies tinkle, and finally a wash of buzzing guitar drone cloaks the all the other elements in a patina of blurred shimmer. So nice.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!
Is there really any need for a Pavement greatest hits? Maybe not. But listening to this again, we are definitely reminded of just how fucking great these guys were, and how incredible these songs are. Most of us have all their records and thus all these songs, but for the uninitiated, we really can't imagine how blown away someone would be hearing all these songs for the first time AT ONCE. Probably be too much. So many stone cold indie rock classics, even the weaker tracks are still miles above most other indie rock. And the gems, the 'hits', still untouchable.
Songs spanning the groups entire career, including some compilation tracks including what might be our favorite Pavement track ever, "Unseen Power Of The Picket Fence", from the No Alternative comp, a fractured, gnarled weirdo pop gem, with plenty of that Pavement style namedropping, mostly about R.E.M., featuring a classic sort-of-chorus: a howled "'Time After Time' was my least favorite song", and a totally tripped out buzzing synth, clattery, spoken word outro. Plus there's "Summer Babe", still the defining Pavement jam for most of us. As is "Trigger Cut". And of course there's "Cut Your Hair" and "Range Life" and well, we could go on and on...
Needless to say, if you were just looking for a killer Pavement mixtape, then this will totally hit the spot, and if you've somehow never heard Pavement, or only heard one or two of their later records, then hell, this should definitely set you straight, and while it might be unnecessary, we can tell you that around here we've been playing the shit out of this, which pretty much says it all.
If there's one thing that has helped some of us here get over our fear of techno, it's the amazing mixes on Kompakt. Sure we're a sucker for blissed out dreamy pop ambience, or murky throbbing heroin house, or heck even big block rockin beats, but with techno, we sometimes have to be coaxed, lured in, a little pop ambient sugar to sweeten the otherwise straight up techno pot.
Of the recent Kompakt mixes, this latest from Ewan Pearson has turned out to be one of our favorites, barring one or two, most of the records he's mixing we've never hard of, and heck, we hadn't even heard of Pearson himself before this, but this mix is a killer, dark and groovy, laid back, but plenty danceable, the opener is a trippy bit of muted four on the floor and squiggly electronics, leading us right into this eclectic mix, that moves through sunshiney, hiss drenched, stuttery vocal downtempo groove, to dubby late night pulse, to rad retro futurist funk, to hazy rave-y buzz, to post Depeche Mode house flecked new wave, to cool Euro electro, to stuttery looped softly pulsing collaged dreamscapes, to smoldering total soft pop, to cool clipped, angular Daft Punk-ish indie pop laced electronica and on and on.
Kompakt fans will love this of course, but if you were waiting for a techno record to lure you to the dancefloor, this might just be it...
We were all kinda wondering what would happen with Pelican's first record for Southern Lord, after leaving Hydra Head. Would it be more metal? More black metal? More evil? Would it be more ANYTHING? Well, the answer is yeah, it is -more- a lot of things, but weirdly enough, at least to these ears, Pelican moved in the opposite direction, more melodic, more catchy, more hooky, LESS metal, and the weird thing is, in some ways it makes the music much more lyrical, which helps when you're an instrumental band, but still, here and there it does just the opposite, the sounds seemingly screaming for vocals, thankfully, those moments are few and far between, which leaves another bad ass chunk of heavy instrumental post rock. And few do it as well as Pelican. One thing we noticed this time around is a lot more grunge, some of the riffs, the changes, sound like they could have been lifted right off some classic Sub Pop 7", and Lord knows there ain't nothing wrong with that. Makes it sound heavier too. The guitars sound amazing, thick and crunchy, the melodies pretty catchy, some subtle Sabbath-isms here and there, some serious grooves (in a cool, heavy, UNgroovy way), and the drumming sounds better than ever, solid, tight, with just the right amount of swing, and there seems to be a lot more pretty parts, more space, letting the songs breathe, and sprawl, and open up, which in turn of course makes the heavier parts sound that much heavier. The band tackled an Earth cover on the Ephemeral 12", and it sounded great, so it makes sense that we're hearing some of that same epic sweeping twang, albeit more subtly on some of the songs here.
The cool thing about Pelican these days, is that they just sound like Pelican. Sure they inhabit a scene where there's plenty of sonic overlap, but these guys are just so good, and they've really turned into ace songwriters, which is critical when you're writing all instrumentals.
So yeah, if you already dig these guys, or love heavy rock, or metallic post rock or any of that sort of stuff, odds are this will totally hit the spot, and we were gonna say that if you didn't like Pelican already, then this probably wouldn't change your mind, but the more we listen to it, the more we're beginning to think it just might!
After a handful of killer 12"s, some of which were included on those awesome Skull Disco comps, comes the debut dubstep longplayer from Punch Drunk label head honcho Peverelist, a dark and moody collection of stutter and skitter, weirdly melodic in places, reminiscent of folks like Boards Of Canada or Autchre, but fused onto a dubbed out stripped down dubstep chassis, the opener is a low slung groover, but with a dizzying repetitive main melody and a wheezing chordal backdrop, while "Revival" finds Peverelist teaming up with Pinch, for some super blissed out, underwater dubstep drift, skeletal and spare, mysterious and haunting. The rest of the record sort of slips back and forth between the two, shifting from super melodic Warp style skitter, to clipped murky downtempo dub, dabbling in sounds more techno, throughout, culminating in the closer "Clunk Click Every Trip" that adds some Pop Ambience, and some retro synths that make it sound like some sort of John Carpenter dubstep remix. Cool.
First proper full length from these guys, a reissue of an out of print cassette, after appearances on the two Underwater Peoples samplers, and it's a killer. A totally tripped out chunk of tropical outsider pop damage. Acoustic guitars and simpler percussion, dreamy summery harmony vocals, all tangled up with huge swaths of fractured noise and crumbling distortion, twisted xylophone melodies, and swirling effects, long stretches of murky dirgey fuzz pop, muted drums, animal sounds (!), warped melodies... Imagine the Beach Boys, crossed with Animal Collective, crossed with lots and lots of cough syrup, smeary and blurry and dreamy. The guitars are effected and warped and pulled into glimmering streaks and jangly shard, the riffs are looped into stuttery almost synth sounding rhythms, acoustic guitars buzz and shimmer, beneath layers of feedback and percussive clatter and clang, swaths of hiss and blown out fuzz, the sound very much like the tropical lo-fi pop of Ducktails, but WAY WAY more tweaked and ramshackle and druggy and psychedelic and noisy and freaky. Which in case you couldn't tell, means we're loving this BIG TIME.
Latest batch of lo-fi weirdness from the always reliable Sacred Bones label, this one comes from some weirdos called The Pink Noise, and it's hard to know exactly where to place them, amidst the current crop of lo-fi / new wave / cold wave / garage rock that's been sweeping the underground. They definitely belong, but even amongst sonic brethren like Blank Dogs and Zola Jesus and Gary War, these guys are way out on the fringes, their sound definitely in the ballpark, so fans of the current retro-wave craze will still dig, but WAY more cracked and weird and OUT there.
Murky, synth-driven noisy new wave lo-fi might be about as succinct as we can get, primitive synthesizers pulse over spare metronomic beats, guitar buzz undulates in thick layers, practically smothering the barked vox, the sound robotic and primitive and RAW. Crunchy guitars are clipped and looped into weird stuttery rhythms, detuned and distorted, clouds of FX obscure the vocals, again, swimming in a murky morass of sound, everything is twisted and tweaked and stumbly and mechanical, keyboards wheeze, rubbery melodies are unfurled, tripped out, druggy, melodies get all twisted up, it all seems to be on the verge of collapse, slipping into dingy cold wave one second, blown out punk rock the next, almost funky sounding eighties new wave the next, you can hear eighties John Carpenter, The Residents, even Art Of Noise, but all in the red and raw and gnarled and twisted into something that definitely treads its own bizarre, and weirdly appealing sonic path. A seriously fractured collection of home brewed mad scientist 4-track outsider new wave pop, that we can't seem to stop listening to.
Comes in a cool sandpapery cover.
The return of the female dronenoise dynamic duo, often referred to as the Olsen Twins of noiserock (not sure if that's a dis, or if they came up with it themselves), it's unclear if the band ever actually broke up, but regardless, Make It Real marks the duo's first record in a while.
The most noticeable difference here are the vocals, and well, the songs too, dialed back for the most part is the hazy drugged out psychedelia of old, and in its place is something much more rock, more fuzzy and propulsive and less abstract and spacey. From the first song, it almost sounds classic rock, big echoey drums, heavily reverbed guitars, fuzzy garagey organ, and some full on sixties girl group style vocals, finding their new sound more aligned with groups like Dum Dum Girls, the Beets, Brilliant Colors, Vivian Girls, than with their more tripped out labelmates. The sound suits them for sure, and even in their early days, they still dabbled in this kind of hazy psych-pop, it's just more pronounced here. The druggy groove of the Doors is all over this record (or for a more contemporary reference, Wooden Shjips or the Moon Duo), but things also get more jagged and angular as Pocahaunted channel some old school eighties post punk.
Definitely cool, just be prepared for more song and less space, more rock and less drift, it for sure sounds like maybe the shift in sound was organic, the seeds sewn on past records blossoming here, born from a natural progression, from sound to song, making both the recorded, and the live Pocahaunted experience, much more rocking and danceable. Which is not at all a bad thing.
Most folks probably know Ramleh mostly for their connection to sonic contemporaries and brothers in noise Skullflower, both having emerged from the same scene and both having released records on the infamous Broken Flag label (run by Gary Mundy, the main man of Ramleh). But Ramleh was always its own unique beast, a constantly evolving sonic terror, beginning life as a power electronics combo, before blossoming into something more in line with what might be called noise rock. But the line that marked that shift was never clearly delineated, with elements of pre- and post- bleeding both ways, infusing the group's sound with strange elements that definitely made Ramleh stand out amongst their noisy contemporaries.
Hole In The Heart was originally released on Broken Flag as a super limited cassette, in 1987, and is here fleshed out with extra sounds culled from a cassette release called Nerve released the same year, and listening to this again now, we're reminded how ridiculously prescient the sound of Ramleh was, predicting sounds that are all the rage now, from glacial downtuned dirgery a la SUNNO))), to tripped out druggy ambient free noise (about a million floorcore bands), strange post industrial dirgescapes (Wolf Eyes?), to blown out industrial metallic crunch (about a million more bands), it's a sound that is definitely of its time, but also sounds like it could be some super limited microlabel cd-r release of today.
Opener "Bite The Bolster", is all slow smoldering drones, distant shimmer, processed ghostly vocals, lo-fi for sure but lush and strangely dramatic and lovely, leading straight into "Do Not Come Near" that does SUNNO))) better than SUNNO))) themselves twenty-odd years earlier, a heaving, grinding crumbling mass of gnarled buzz, laced with streaks of feedback, buried melodies, muted pulses, fractured almost-rhythms, some of it sounds downright dubby, albeit blown out and noise drenched, hypnotic and washed out and crushing.
Which is then followed by the epic 25 minute, 6 part "Redcap", a sprawling multi movement noise jam, which begins with a weird bleated doomic plod, only to explode into a squall of swirling whirling hiss and buzz, distorted vox, and wild tangled feedback, not that far removed from Our Love Will Destroy The World or Birchville Cat Motel. Loops, and haunting melodies, the track lurches and lumbers, slipping from all out assault, to dark stuttery drift and back again. Part three is a massive slowed down metallic dirge, processed vocals stretched out into a grinding drone, while the (surprisingly catchy) main riff pulses in the background, eventually splintering into angular loops, topped by a soaring super distorted psych guitar wail. The next part falls somewhere between Godflesh and Wolf Eyes, a crushing synth flecked distortion drenched plod, with billows of echoey vox, a motorik pulse at its core, doomy, but also sort of blissed out. A brief burst of twisted tweaked riffage and what wounds like pipe fights and broken glass, opens up into the final part, beginning with a churning muted loop, and shards of effected feedback, sounding a bit like an industrial WOLD, this muddy musicbox sort of looped melody happening way down in the mix, while a soft cacophony of high end and swooping distorted vox careen and collide in the space above, at first it sounds like a sort of abstract free noise freakout, but the vocals get more and more melodic, and the song takes a new shape a twisted bit of depressive noise pop, a bit like the Dead C, before blinking out.
"Spear Flowers" begins as a gnarled tangle of super distorted riffs, again weirdly melodic, swirling and collapsing inward, eventually transforming into a looped hypnotic drug jam, repeated mantra like vocals, crunching grinding electronics, buzz all over the place, loads of feedback, totally mesmerizing, and again, sounding like it could be from today.
"Hole In The Heart" is total in-the-red ramshackle pop infused noise rock, like a heavier, more lush Dead C, the main melody sweet and catchy, but slowed down and buried in hiss and buzz, lilting and dreamy for all its abject aggression. "Product Of Fear" is a gorgeous guitarscape, layered buzz, washed out glimmering warmth, humid and haunting, and really really pretty, which leads you softly into "Grazing On Fear 2" which is also pretty, in its own way", but is also a cacophonous blow out, twisted atonal organ, and churning distorted white noise, eventually lurching into a cool skipping, stuttery outro. And finally, the nearly 25 minute "True Religion", an expansive soundscape of processed guitars that again is strangely pretty, very much in the vein of Jesu or Nadja, the guitars blown way out, but the melody is lilting and melancholy, a sort of soft doom, but wrapped in muted crunch and crumbling buzz, before slipping into a strange fractured interlude, before emerging on the other side some sort of slow motion noise pop dirge, epic and triumphant, finishing off in an explosion of grinding white hot / black hole skree.
Absolutely essential for pretty much everybody, but specifically, folks into Nadja and Jesu and SUNNO))) and Wolf Eyes and Skullflower, and anybody who likes super heavy droned out noise, pop infused shoegaze industrial metal bliss out, and crushing power electronic dreamdronedirge. Reissue of the year so far, hands down.
Offene Turen (Open Doors), Roedelius's little known fifth album from 1982 and issued on cd for the first time, is definitely not like the others. Often considered his "experimental" record, Roedelius completed it shortly after the last major Cluster record, Curiosum, and it sometimes seems as if he wanted to make a record through the eyes of his more taciturn partner, Moebius. While it doesn't quite have Moebius's way with mechanical musical calibrations, the vibe is more stark and atmospheric and the closest we've heard any of the Cluster clan come to sounding cinematically proggy in the vein of John Carpenter and Goblin. Lots of church organ sounds and bell tones with an occasional glimpse into Roedelius's classical romantic side, but less so than on other releases. Definitely one of the worthier weirder records in the Cluster canon, perhaps not the place to start with, but for fans who are looking for something more unusual, there's lots to love, from songs that are seriously spooky and almost Oneohtrix-like, to other tracks that are charmingly naive experiments with the newest (at the time) digital tech. Recommended!
Ew! Look out, it's a ROTTING CORPSE!!! Well, when these guys named their band Rotting Corpse, a name like that still had some shock value. Heck, it was like 1985, and they were the first and only thrash metal band in their part of Texas (Dallas Fort Worth). Their brand of punk inflected, speedy, shreddy, Slayerized thrash was pretty darn deathly for the era. Metal maniacs of a brutal bent into old school style morbidity ought to check them out, maybe you've heard 'em already on that terrific Texas Metal Archives Vol.1 compilation we highlighted here just a few weeks ago, which included Rotting Corpse's namesake tune "Rotting Corpse". Among the bands on that '80s comp, ol' Rotting Corpse were one of sickest, along with Death Tripper and Necrovore, sounding pretty gnarly next to a lot of the other acts, many of whom stylistically were in more of a traditional, epic, speed metal vein (also cool of course).
Now, as if someone knew we were primed to hear MORE Rotting Corpse, this showed up, a two disc cd -and- dvd set, the cd compiling all of the band's surviving demo tape tracks circa 1986-1990, recorded by various lineups, Rotting Corpse membership early on featuring future Solitude Aeturnus guitarist and Brainticket label boss John Perez, and always including founding member and former Pantera roadie Walter Trachsler (great surname for a thrash metaller, eh?) on guitars and sometimes vocals.
It's killer stuff if you like your thrash raw and underground, with the buzzsaws, we mean guitars, all about chop-chop-chop riffage and chaotic soloing. The vokills are guttural, throat-retched and/or punkish, expressing Reagan/Bush era hardcore 'tude. And all the while, the frantic drum battery and loose-strung bass threatens to shake your boombox to bits (a boombox, Walkman, or car stereo being the preferred playback equipment for the original demo cassettes we're sure). It's hard not to mosh, listening to this.
The cd booklet includes several pages of detailed band history (from which we learn that after they played a show with Nuclear Assault, Dan Lilker was heard to say that Rotting Corpse were "America's noisiest band", high praise from the likes of him, indeed), pictures, fliers, and lyrics. Oh, and the dvd disc, meanwhile, contains live concert footage of Rotting Corpse in action, a bunch of it filmed at reunion gigs in 2005 and 2006 (revealing that at least one guy in the band still has really long hair... and also likes to wear what appears to be a camouflage patterned kilt, for some reason). Better yet, it also includes some much more entertaining vintage video from a show back in '89.
A mixture of Mojo and Ugly Things, this colorful magazine is always a nice read for those who like their music a little bit on the vintage side. On the cover this month, The Hollies! Wait, no, flip it upsidedown, it's the Ramones as the cover stars!! Also this issue: The Bosstown Sound, Popol Vuh, Stephen Stills, The Incredible String Band, reviews, news, all the usual stuff...
The third full length by this Stockholm based band is the first to reach our ears... thanks to those fine folks at Merge Records. Seriously, have they ever steered us wrong? We think not!
Although the black and white band photo on the front cover made us think this was an obscure '80s Talking Heads or Camper Van Beethoven record, Shout Out Louds are a perfect fit on the label who delivered Superchunk, Destroyer, Arcade Fire, The Clientele, She & Him, and Camera Obscura among many others. If you dig pretty chiming guitar lines and sweet boy vocals, don't miss this! The album starts out with a punch then gradually mellows out over the course of the next few songs. Along the way they incorporate elements of '70s soft rock, '80s art rock, '90s college rock. Yes, that's a lot of rock rock rock, but they do dish out the pop aplenty too! Definitely for fans of New Pornographers, Death Cab For Cutie, Peter, Bjorn And John, and The Pernice Brothers!
It's been a while since we've heard from Slim Cessna, whose Auto Club remain to this day one of our favorite bands of country punks, along with Munly, Slim's partner in musical crime. We were under the impression that maybe SCAC were no more, which could still be true (and which would make us very very sad) as this is in fact not a new record, but is a collection of B-sides, unreleased tracks and odds and ends, from the beginning of this century. But these guys are so good, even their castoffs and never-weres are better than most bands' best. And yep, these jams are indeed killer, dark and twangy, catchy, brooding and mysterious, like a more wry and less end-of-the-world Woven Hand or Sixteen Horsepower, no surprise that they hail from the same place. But yeah, if you like that sort of apocalyptic grim folk, or dark twangy swampy country, the sound of SCAC should definitely hit the spot. Then the only consideration is whether you dig these guys' irreverence, which is not difficult as for the most part it's pretty subtle. The weird thing is that a lot of this stuff here sounds like the Old 97's, the -OLD- Old 97's, when they were great, mostly due to the vocals, but the same sort of twangy country rock, and wry twisted lyrics, also folks into the Decemberists might find a lot to like here. Not a bad place to start, we might suggest getting The Bloody Tenent Truth Peace first, but some of the tracks here definitely rank among their best, and for the most part Buried Behind The Barn is a much more serious and straight up country record, the humor and 'punk' much more subtle than on some of the other Slim Cessna records. Regardless, another great collection of songs from these guys, and here's hoping this is just to hold us over for a forthcoming brand new full length...
Sniffin & Snortin (parts 1 and 2!), Run & Hide, Bad Woman, Don't Say No, Wanna Take You Home...sound good? Those are some of the song titles on this classic women-and-drugs obsessed dumbo-rock Japanese psych album. It stars guitar whiz and massive stoner Shinki Chen (also of Foodbrain and oodles of other obscure Japanese psych outfits), bassist Masayoshi Kabe (from Foodbrain too), and singing drummer Joey 'Pepe' Smith -- a Vietnam vet whom you might know from the Filipino band Juan De La Cruz, whose album "Shake Your Brains" is one of the few that tops this for sheer truly stoned rock retardation (a good thing). Too bad we can't get those in anymore. But you'll hear at least one of their tunes on this, the second SG&S album, originally released as a double LP in 1972, which we happen to like even better than their 1971 LP "Eve" though Mr. Julian Cope made that one a "record of the month" on his website Head Heritage. Anyway we have this one, not that one.
Speed, Glue & Shinki, as you might imagine from their name, were a goddamn weird, messed up, completely wacked heavy psych/blues/prog band. So messed up that this time out, guest musicans wrote (and performed?) most of it! But it doesn't matter. And even when Joey plugs in a Moog synth to do a whole LP side devoted to the Sun, Planets, Life, Moon, and Angels, this never ever remotely gets pretentious and proggy (not that we don't like proggy). It just can't. Speed Glue & Shinki are primal, so primal, too primal. At least one track hints at the Stooges, some others Zeppelin, while the rest approximates a brain-damaged James Gang. Record collector types might recall the fancy, expensive Shadoks LP reissue that was available a couple years ago for about two seconds. We were enthralled with the lovely tiger cover art and the ridiculous rock and have been hoping ever since to bring in a cd version, and at last we tracked down a few copies that we had to order from Sweden, so act fast for your Speed, Glue & Shinki fix if you think you want it.
MPEG Download: "Red Doll" [/audio/speedgluered.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "Red Doll" [/audio/speedgluered.m3u]
MPEG Download: "Song For An Angel" [/audio/speedgluesong.mp3]
Man do we love Russian black metal, Old Wainds, Nav, Ithdabquth Qliphoth, Meti Bhuvah, Blackdeath, Forest... A few years back we discovered this one man band and lost our shit, it definitely sounded Russian, but at the same time it sounded like none of those other bands, we were so blown away. That record, Vadrer, from 2007, became our unequivocal black metal record of the year. In the last three years, all we've heard from Stielas Storhett was a couple tracks on a three way split, that if anything just made us more anxious for a new full length, and while this is not it, it IS two new songs, two new long songs, two parts of a single longer song, and it RULES, if anything, Stielas Storhett have only gotten better since we last heard from them.
So what's the big deal? Haunting cinematic strings, soaring and dramatic, give way to dense, blasting, sorrowful black metal buzz, thick and gnarled and utterly frosty and epic, the main melody totally majestic, trancelike and mesmerizing, we could listen to 10 seconds of this on a loop FOREVER. Not sure what it is about it that makes it so special, but it's definitely magical, the usual black buzz blast is laced with woozy arpeggiated melodies, the vocals are appropriately harsh and hellish, but seem infused with extra pathos, super emotional and intense, and the song itself, the arrangement, loping, midtempo, depressive and melancholic, lurching and lumbering with a cool little stuttery chug, and a washed out seasick breakdown that sends the guitar into high end ur-drone skree, before slipping back, before it begins to slow down, the vocals getting more and more intense and hysterical, the guitar soaring, cool harmonics and melodies drifting above the now doomy crawl, finally fading out.
The second 'movement' begins with weird high end guitar filigree, and some mysterious voices speaking in Russian, and then the song lurches into action, a weary depressive plod, with more gorgeous soaring harmonies, almost like a way blacker Opeth or Katatonia, the song stays moody and moving until about 5 minutes in and the song bursts into full on blast mode, frenzied and frantic, quickly slipping back into a more melodic chug, with some amazing harmonized guitar leads, total classic metal, so epic, finishing off with more of the cinematic strings from the beginning.
Holy shit. This guy is amazing, this record is incredible, it may be only 17 minutes long, but it accomplishes more in that time than most other BM bands can pull off in a career. Let's just call it BLACK METAL EP OF THE YEAR!
Now available on vinyl! (Sans squeaky door bonus track found on cd reissue, though.)
Strange is right! And it's not just the strings. This 1966 recording by out-jazz pioneer Sun Ra and his adventurous Astro Infinity Arkestra is strange all over. This could SO totally be a current day improv psych cd-r from some of our Finnish friends, for instance... if it weren't recorded 40 years ago by one of the foremost geniuses of 20th century American jazz (and Afro-Outer-Space art). The idea here is that alongside the horns and flutes and bass all the usual instrumentation of the Arkestra, they're improvising on a collection of completely unfamiliar instruments -- the sundry "strange strings" of the title. Odd, exotic stringed instruments possibly including: Chinese lute, "moon-guitar" (?), mandolin, banjo, koto, bandura, ukelin (a zither type instrument), and others yet to be identified. Directed only by loose gestures from Sun Ra, the band expresses themselves freely on these strange strings... and the results must rank among the weirdest and most abstract sounds in Sun Ra's vast catalog, an unhinged tangle of sputtering pluckery and string-scrape. In addition, some sort of percussion adds thunderous rumbling metallic drones (this is presumably the "lightning drum" with which Ra is also credited, along with electronic piano). It could be a sheet of metal, or even a metal musical sculpture, as this reissue's extensive and investigative liner notes postulate. Another sonic element making the proceedings even stranger is the wordless, otherworldly "space vocal" of Art Jenkins aka Thlan Aldridge.
"Worlds Approaching" starts things off with a 10+ minutes of woozy Wurlitzer, clonky horn burble, and percussive clatter. Then the shambolic strange strings orgy begins with "Strings Strange" (12:47) and continues through to side two's epic "Strange Strange" (20:53). Log drums pulse beneath the reverbed apeshit freeform freakout of strings, space vocals, and metallic crashes. Another great Ra reish.
Finally, new music from this East Coast sunshine shoegaze dream pop combo. Both of their full lengths, Scribble Mural and Ashes Grammar ended up being big faves around here, so we were definitely excited for more more more.
And thankfully, everything we loved about ASDIG is still present, the shimmery jangly guitars, the ethereal vocal harmonies, the woozy rhythms, but this time around the band have added some new sounds, the opening track for instance, has a cool breakdown where things get all washed out and in comes a muted techno thump, before the launch right back into the rock, only to have that electronic skitter follow them, getting al tangled up with the vocals. The guitars are crunchy here and there as well as jangly, "Daytime Rainbows" is crazy catchy, and finds the band at their heaviest, channeling the spirit of nineties shoegaze legends the Swirlies. That electronica finds its way into the third song as well, before they finish off with "Piano Lessons", a midtempo groover with fuzzy low end synths, laid over a seriously dreamy swirl of sounds.
As if 4 new songs weren't enough, this 12" also tags on 3 remixes, all of which take the original songs in dramatically different directions, the first is a pretty straight up electronic reimagining of the title track, the second one though buries the original under all sorts of crumbling distortion and blown out buzz. If you can imagine Wold remixing ASDIG, it might just sound like this. Finally, Ezekial Honig, whose Surfaces records we reviewed a while back, turns that same track into something super space-y and minimal, hushed and abstract. Really nice.
Boy has this been tough to keep in stock. For weeks now, we've been trying to order enough to list, but EVERYONE was out of it (the vinyl is still AWOL, being repressed we think). Makes sense as they were another one of those super hyped, next big thing bands, but these guys happen to be one of those rare bands who might even deserve it. Check out record opener "Floating Vibes", it's like a warped garage pop surf rock hybrid of the Beach Boys and XTC, with plenty of Pavement style nineties indie rock goodness mixed in. A little Weezer too. And these guys take all those influences, and shape them into something special, definitely retro and WAY beholden to much of what came before, but really what isn't, and these guys are good enough to transform those borrowed sounds into something both warm and familiar but also weirdly original, the songs are sprawling, lots of parts, tons of harmonies, even strings and flutes. Back to the opening track, crunchy riffage gives way to warm washed out woozy loping pop, with a soaring bridge / chorus, all tangled guitar leads, and slippery chords, which in turn gives way to a cool hand clap, twangy guitar, ooooohs and aahhhhs bit of ethereal drift, before exploding into soaring psychedelic pound, and then back again.
But hell that's just one song. Check out "Swim", which pushes the same buttons that recent Smith Westerns record did, all reverbed hazy harmony vocals, warm crunchy guitars, chiming bells, a killer hook, plenty of fuzz and haze and jangle, some pretty perfect pop for sure, total Weezer / Beach Boys worship, but with some surprising little melodic tangles and some almost African sounding almost-grooves, that might even appeal to the Vampire Weekenders.
But Astro Coast is way more than its influences, or some chunk of hipster flavor-of the-moment, Pitchfork approved indie rock, much more, the record throughout remains hazy and a little psychedelic, a LOT jangly, but drifts all over the place, from hushed harmonic shimmer, to shuffling dream pop, to total surf garage crunch, to old school nineties style smart pop, all tangled guitars and clever lyrics, soaring vocals, slipping easily into gorgeous falsettos, acoustic guitars draped over big booming drums, effects swirling and swooping, all manner of subtly employed studio-as-instrument filigree, all of that and incredibly and impossibly catchy songs too, which, after listening to this non stop for the last month or so, has us convinced that these guys really should be the next big thing. Definitely a new favorite around here...
Latest collection of gorgeous drugged out free folk rituals from these Belgian freaks, and as always, it's a fantastically weird and tranced out affair. Sonic ceremonies of shambling free percussion, layered guitar buzz, shimmery melody, and warped warbly drones, all woven into gorgeous occult psychedelia.
The record opens with a dark and mysterious bit of ambience, swirling blackness, muted effects, ghostly melodies, tinkling chimes, spidery guitars, but gives way to a full on seventies kraut psych jam that almost sounds like Comus, all hand drums, and strummed steel string guitars, fluttery flutes (?), it wouldn't be difficult to imagine stumbling onto some sonic coven in a dark forest, gathered around a fire, creating this dreamy din.
And that seventies psychedelic acid folk vibe continues right into the next track (and the rest of the record really), another hippy jam, all flanged guitar, motorik rhythms and swirly melodic buzz.
The second side begins with a druggy laid back meander, all wheezing organs, shuffling drums, detuned guitars, and mumbled chantlike vox, a shambolic minimal dronefolk that seems to be gradually melting right before our ears.
The next track is a full on chunk of seventies style psychedelic buzz, a squall of buzzing psych guitar, pounding tribal drummage, druggy and dirgey and divine. And finally, the record finishes off with part two of that krautrock jam from side one, this time way stripped down, a minimal kraut groove, laced with warped bits of melody, clattery spare percussion, crunchy riffs, drone-y buzz, all wrapped in a vintage lo-fi production haze, that makes this sound like it could be some lost kraut rarity a la German Oak. KILLER.
Pressed on CRAZY thick vinyl, with eye popping full color cover art. LIMITED TO 506 COPIES. Already out of print at the label, so these may be the last copies we see....
Bernard Szajner is one of the more eccentric pioneers of French post-prog electronic music. Released in 1981, Superficial Music, was the follow-up to his bizarre avant-electro-rock concept record against the evils of capital punishment, Some Deaths Take Forever. Superficial Music is less high concept (or more depending upon how you look at it) than Some Deaths, as it uses Marcel Duchamp's ideas of the readymade coupled with Eno's Oblique Strategies to make a compelling work of tape manipulation synthesis. It's definitely not as rock-oriented as Some Deaths. Reworking tapes from his first release, Visions of Dune, and processing them backwards and at half speed, Superficial Music is both strangely atonal and oddly enticing, full of dark pulsations and brooding oceanic turbulence, following in the footsteps of other cosmic tape music such as Fripp and Eno's No Pussyfooting, and Eliane Radigue's Vice Versa while sounding akin to the heavier cavernous analog explorations of Klaus Schulze and Kluster. The second half of the record is Szajner's three part suite, Oswiecim (Polish for Auschwitz) and obviously it doesn't get much lighter in tone. Ghostly and hushed, with unnerving spectral drones, this suite addresses Szajner's family roots with the Holocaust and though it's not as brutally heavy-handed as it could be, it's more often disquieting in its cold and near silent detachment. This reissue also includes two previously unreleased bonus tracks from the period that complement the work nicely. Fans of that Musique Electronique En France compilation we raved about a while back, as well as modern day doomdrone, should definitely check this out!
We have precisely ONE of these (although, we may be able to order more, eventually). So no big review, you (YOU?) either want this or you don't, several hours of archival live performances full of squealing, squeaking, squalling skronk by this Japanese improv jazz guitar legend and his New Direction Unit from the late '70s. Five separate shows, on five cds in individual slimline jewel cases packaged in a plastic sleeve/box with booklet (in Japanese): Regular Concert no.35 1977.6.2, Regular Concert no.36 1977.8.4, Another Situation First Concert 1977.9.4, Regular Concert no.39 1978.2.10, and Regular Concert no.43 1978.10.6, to use the formulations they do. Not sure what's so "Regular" about these concerts, exactly... Most of the discs/concerts consist of 2-5 lengthy pieces, the NDU improvising in various instrumental combinations, Takayanagi playing electric guitar or "gut guitar" (acoustic), others in the outfit variously on flute, clarinet, saxophone, bass, percussion. Sometimes it's the full ensemble, sometimes trios, duos, few solo tracks too. Obviously if you're a Takayanagi fan, and only if you're a Takayanagi fan, you just might be interested in this, to get some more "Mass Projection" into your life. "Gradually Projection" too! Good stuff as you'd expect, from quiet textural moodiness to utter gurgling frenzy.
Limited edition of 500 copies. And, the one we have happens to come shrinkwrapped with a free bonus dvd disc, footage of Takayanagi performing in Tokyo, 1990. (Any further copies we might order, if we even can, won't have that.)
If we had to choose a favorite purveyor of pop ambience, it would definitely be tough to pick just one, but Andrew Thomas would definitely be a contender. We still find ourselves listening to his Fearsome Jewel Record, A hushed, understated collection of minimal drift and dreamlike shimmer, the usual washed out ambience infused with record crackle, and muted electronic glitchery, a bit like Gas fused with Philip Jeck.
We hadn't heard from Thomas in a while so we were thrilled to discover a new record, and it's just as fantastically sublime as we had hoped. Even more minimal than Fearsome Jewel, Between Building And Trees finds Thomas painting lush cinematic soundscapes, from subtly looped samples, warm whirring synths, there's still some record crackle, artifacts from the samples we presume, but it adds warmth and intimacy, making these sprawling shimmery soundscapes sound hand crafted, as if you could watch him at an old work bench, taking sounds and samples, as if they were scraps of leather or metal, and fashioning this gorgeous, sonic OBJECT. Lovely and whispery and melodic, warm and whirring and blissed out, this immediately became sleeping music of choice for some of us, the absolute perfect nocturnal soundtrack, some of the tracks so minimal the sounds seem to bleed into the background, fading into the starry sky, until the next track kicks in, and suddenly the stars are sounds, glimmering and pulsing, blurring into streaks of soft focus flutter and languorous dreamlike drift. So so so beautiful.
Ed Ball, the mastermind behind the headfuck shoegaze genius that is Teenage Filmstars, is not just a master of sonic manipulation and avant audio alchemy, no he's also a POP genius, which in some ways is precisely why Teenage Filmstars was so compelling, for every whatthefuck collage of bizarre sounds, or the dizzying spinout of backwards drums and warped reverse guitars, was some perfect melody, some kernel of absolute classic pop tunesmithery, even at its most obtuse and impenetrable, it was always weirdly poppy, or subtly melodic.
The long running classic British pop combo The Times is the groop in which Ball let his otherwise sublimated pop demons loose, gobbling up every trope of classic pop music from the sixties, seventies, and especially the eighties and the nineties, and spitting them back out as his own brand of primo pop, which sounds quite a bit like some ever shifting, and slightly tweaked fusion of Oasis, Ride, the Happy Mondays, the Style Council, Depeche Mode, Tears For Fears, Pop Will Eat Itself, and the like. But only slightly tweaked. Don't be expecting any freaked out sonic fuckery, or some fractured meta-pop, the Times were never meant to be experimental, they're more like a musical time capsule, for Ball and his cohorts to go skipping through the history of pop music. And to bring back bits and bobs that he then assembles into the Times museum of classic pop. And classic it is. From mod jangle, to new wave synthy groove, to big guitar power pop, to strummy slow jam, to string soaked balladry, to glimmering soft focus shoegaze, no quirky prog-pop, and pretty much every stop in between. And it's not just the sounds, it's the songs, lush and jangly and melodic, hooks galore, catchy as all get out, total retro pop bliss, every song a gem. Another glorious chapter in Ball's long and storied sonic history, or chapters, this double disc reissue consisting of 3 different The Times records, originally released in 1989 and 1990...
Like all Artpop! releases, comes with a huge, somewhat confusional booklet, packed with liner notes and pics, and also includes a bunch of killer bonus tracks!
Since the 2006 departure of one of the founding members, multi-instrumentalist Dickon Hinchliffe (along with longtime drummer and bassist Al Macauley and Mark Colwill), the Tindersticks' sound has shifted quite dramatically away from their trademark well-worn velvety orchestral grandeur. Some fans delighted in the new developments, while others were torn. On this album it appears they've gone the farthest afield, and we're not quite sure if the challenging shifts will send us packing. Even where you'd think there could be no chance of change there is some - that is, in the deeeep intonations of lead singer Stuart A. Staples! He's singing ascends into a slightly higher register which certainly makes for a more varied tone, but we feel it often undermines the overall impact. The songs come in a grabbag of styles - smoky jazz, a little flamenco, cowboy twang - and if that were the extent of the band's new directions, things would probably be less perturbing. But without Staples' baritone delivery it all seems to drift somewhat nebulously, lacking the potent nail-you-in-the-gut gravity of their earlier releases. Nevertheless, we simply can't turn our backs to this beloved band just yet. Might need to take this for a few more spins. It will be interesting to see if they continue along this new path on their next album, and venture beyond these seeming growing pains into altogether new terrain. So, all of you diehards, we know this review probably won't dissuade you, but we just wanted to issue a warning!
What a moving set of songs! Ali Farka Toure recorded this record shortly before he passed away, along with the immensely talented and soulful kora master Toumani Diabate. There is a mournful and graceful feeling to this record for sure, Ali Farka knew he was near the end of his life and these songs are filled with such patient, beautiful, and trance inducing sounds. Toure's classic guitar stylings touch on such tender and raw emotions while Diabate adds a warm bed of sound to flesh it all out, yet there is a stark and stripped down approach to these songs that really makes them that much more powerful. With such intricate, delicate and purposeful playing, along with Toure's emotional presence felt so strongly throughout the record, you are reminded what true blues really sounds like. Diabate has the special gift of being capable of making music that is totally therapuetic and healing and soothing, and that matched with Toure laying down his last songs to tape, makes this such a moving, entrancing and completely beautiful album. Highly recommended!
There's just something about these guys. On the surface, they sound like they're just another one of the many lo-fi garage rock / warped pop bands that have been popping up over the last few years, but there's definitely something special about Tyvek, even as far back as 2004, which is when these tracks were recorded, they managed to transcend: simple, stripped down, jangly and rocking, totally catchy and utterly irresistible pop music, or garage, or punk. Whatever. Skyin features a handful of songs that would be re-recorded later, as well as a bunch of songs found only here.
We've raved about Tyvek before, but we're happy to do it again, totally ramshackle, lo-fi garage pop-punk genius, even more ramshackle here, recorded on a 4-track, in the band's house, loads of tape hiss, and drop outs and warble, the band even fuck up, A LOT, but they just keep going, starting again right where they left off, it makes the songs lively and fun, and immediate, and those fuckups then become part of the song, you can't imagine them not doing the intro three times in a row, or stopping right in the middle and talking for a second before deciding to keep going. Plus before very song, and during the slow, less rocking numbers, you can totally hear the music from whatever crappy old tapes they used leaking through, adding a whole 'nother confusional sonic element to their otherwise simple songs.
And ultimately it is about the songs. Simple, stripped down, crunchy and catchy, these songs sound fresh and vibrant, but also classic and timeless, like they could be some lost psychedelic power pop gem from the eighties recently unearthed and reissued, or some weird punk record, undiscovered until now, propulsive rhythms, yelped vocals, buzzy angular guitars, lots of jangle, hooks everywhere, totally rocking and oozing energy, that combined with the strange fucked up recording all adds up to some super rad, way recommended lo-fi noise pop. If you love Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall and all that stuff, these guys will knock your socks off.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. In recycled lp sleeves, with full color paste on cover art.
Finally, the third volume in Ulaan Khol's epic free-psych-drone trilogy. For those who don't already know, Ulaan Khol is in fact Steven R. Smith, a beloved core member of the Jeweled Antler family, who has recorded on his own as Hala Strana, and with the first JA outfit Thuja, among many, many others. Much of Smith's music is hushed and darkly romantic, folky and introspective, he does know how to rock though, and Ulaan Khol is where he really lets loose. The first two installments in the series were both loud and heavy and psychedelic in their own ways, but number three definitely pushes the sound about as far as it can go. The opening track is a dense shapeless cloud of furious effulgent psychedelic guitar, warm and thick and gnarled and epic, the kind of guitarnoise that could fill up a whole record, but there's more to Ulaan Khol's third outing, as is evidenced by the second track, an incredible, super rocking, crazy catchy burst of blown out psychedelic stomp, the drums pounding, beneath a sea of swirling guitar buzz, while way over the top, Smith unfurls wild soaring leads, pealing feedback, dense tangles of notes, long drawn out wailing tones, it's like the perfect frenzied end to some classic space psych jam except it's the whole song.
But fear not, III is not all blown out psych rock for headz, some of the tracks are humid, smoldering raga like dronescapes, buzzing guitar swells, spidery melodies, delicate and crystalline, others take that same ambience and wrap it around urgently strummed acoustic guitars, creating a sort of dark psychfolk, but it's not too long before the record explodes into another incendiary blast of full on speaker shredding freakout.
The second half of the record is heavy on the dark blissy drift, the slow burning drifts, the blurred desert-y shimmer, all of which culminate in the super melodic 10+ minute closer, which sounds poised to explode, but instead channels that energy into something much more sublime, a long drawn out spacedrone/krautrock drift, the guitars thick and distorted, churning and roiling, but laced with gorgeous streaks of melody, dreamy, but still heavy, and pretty much the perfect way to close out Ulaan Khol's epic psychedelic songsuite. Even though this is the third in a trilogy, we're hoping S.R.S. will do an Ulaan Khol IV anyway, or maybe start making prequels, or something, 'cause we want more!
Those folks at Finders Keepers / B-Music never stop wowing us with the killer stuff they dig up. This list, we've made their reissue of the Aussie psychedelic biker flick soundtrack Stone one of our Records Of The Week, and we're constantly having to order more copies of recent discs like The BYG Deal (documenting rarities released by the radical French underground label BYG) and The Sound Of Wonder (an indeed wondrous collection of music from Pakistan's "Lollywood" cinema).
Now, here's Pomegranates, an amazing compilation of "Persian pop, funk, and psych of the 60s and 70s" compiled by a pair of Iranian-American music lovers delving into the pop culture past of their parents' generation, prior to the fall of the Shah, an era of rapid Westernization, economic stratification, and eventual sociopolitical upheaval. Looking back with bittersweet nostalgia, enthusiasm, and curiosity, they've put together a dazzling array of music that's usually quite groovy, also often melancholic, and sometimes subversive. Several tracks are considered classics, some are total obscurities (same to us!), all are irresistible. It's a colorful hybrid of East and West, of Persian musical traditions (already a melting pot of international influences) and electric youth energy. You'll hear strains of Western psych-pop, James Brown funk, Indian raga, Gypsy flamenco, Turkish folk, another other 'exotic' Middle Eastern motifs...
So many great tracks on here, the compilers almost making it impossible to select faves 'cause it's all so good, but if we had to pick just one highlight maybe it would be popular singer Googoosh's "Talagh", which sets her sweet voice soaring over one of the most insidiously slinky grooves EVER, pulsating with sinister fuzz-funk energy under flourishes of cinematic strings. She's got a couple more tracks on here, as befits her status as one of Iran's top pop stars of the day, a true sensation. If you like Turkey's Selda, you'll like what you'll hear here from Googoosh and this disc's other female vocalists. We also should note the zinging sitar funk of Abbass Mehrpouya's "Soul Raga", definitely another standout (it also appears on the full-length Mehrpouya reissue we raved about recently). But we haven't scratched the surface, the tracks by the other artists here, including Parva, Zia, Soli, Sima Bina, Ramesh, Noosh Afarin, Kourosh Yaghmaie, and others, are all awesome too, varying from groovy dancefloor workouts to aching love songs, sometimes both in one. Lots to enjoy, dive in!!
Oh, and of course like all Finders Keepers releases, this is nicely appointed, in a slipcover, with a thick, illustrated cd booklet featuring extensive, informative liner notes from co-compiler Mahssa Taghinia.
FYI we'll be getting a few copies of the import vinyl edition soon, they're not here yet though...
Upstairs is the cd-r imprint for nostalgic electrons and warped lo-fi esoterica run by Daniel Lapotin (aka Oneohtrix Point Never), and what's a better way to kick-start things than with a comp of the accomplices, malcontents, and hangers-on? There's a handful of artists we're familiar with (Julian Lynch, Pulse Emitter, Africa Germany, Caboladies, and of course Oneohtrix who's covering a Grouper song which sounds as weird and fucking awesome as you could imagine!) but a ton we've not got a clue about. For example, take Autre Ne Veut's '80s pop simulacrum filtered through disposable recording techniques; or the anti-aesthetics, bleepity techno of cheap synthesizers from No Fun Acid; or the suitably kosmiche zone tripping from Stellar Om Source; or the wild and woolly oscillations from Nackt Insecten. Pulse Emitter's jagged electronica maps out lunar rhythms for those smooth surfaces of synthetic melodies he's mastered in recent years. Julian Lynch wistfully taps out softened melodies sort of like an idiot savant rendition of Erik Satie with some squiggly ring modulation tossed in for good measure. Gatekeeper brings the compilation to a conclusion with murky recapitulation of early Chris & Cosey smears of shadowy electronica. There's plenty more between all of these points of interest, making for a pretty great album. It's a shame that there's only 75 copies, and Upstairs has already sold out of all of their copies...
Yay, also at last we have a bunch (well, maybe not for long) of this recent Record Of The Week on vinyl!!
Ooooh, so awesome! If you're familiar with Minimal Wave already, or if you're not, this is the thing to get.
The Minimal Wave label and website have been tremendous resources for discovering the hidden gems of synth punk, cold wave, Neue Deutsche Welle, and any of the darker strains of new wave that all blossomed throughout the early to mid '80s. While the label has released full album reissues (vinyl-only) from a number of forgotten men and women of the trade, the two comps that Minimal Wave has issued over the years - the Lost Tapes (documenting European artists) and the Found Tapes (culling from North America) - were absolutely stunning, without a dud amongst the many collected tracks. Unfortunately, those two comps were quite expensive and quite hard to come by. So when Minimal Wave and Stones Throw came together to release this comp, our initial reaction (and that of a few others walking in the shop) was that this compilation fused those Lost & Found Tapes together. Well, we were wrong as this highlights not only some of the best tracks from those compilations, but also the best tracks from the Minimal Wave reissue library, plus a few rare gems not readily available anywhere else.
The Belgian outfit Linear Movement (which later morphed into A Split Second) opens the compilation with a very cold dance number of disaffectedly cold Italo-disco rhythms and female vocals that would fit in with any given Johnny Jewel production for Italians Do It Better (e.g. Chromatics, Glass Candy, Desire, etc.). Crash Course In Science's "Flying Turns" re-emerged first on the Found Tapes and then on the totally awesome Vinyl On Demand anthology; and is an immediately catchy if darkly unique number of dot-dot-dash electro and spiky rhythms closer in spirit to the Units or Nervous Gender. Oppenheimer Analysis reprises a very Gary Numanoid track from their eponymous record which Minimal Wave reissued a while back. The Mark Lane track "Who's Really Listening" is another insistent proto-techno number of synthetic micro-blips driving handclap drum rhythms and Lane's Ultravox-ish vocals. Tara Cross was one of the few women tinkering around with electronics, and produced some beguiling arrhythmic structures with staccato synth punches and her drawn out vocal ambience. Turquoise Days may have been the only New Wave export of the Channel Islands, pulling out some jangling dissonance from their guitars to match the Modern English synth melodies. Minimal Wave reprises the Lost Tapes with a great track from Bene Gesserit, a project of bleakly alienated progressive electronics from Alain Neff who ran the Insane Music label. The Esplendor Geometrico track is curiously playful for a project that centered so much on dangerously mechanoid industrial grinding. Das Ding's "Reassurance Ritual" was designed for the dancefloor with a constant revolution of drum machine programming around tightly wound synth melody repetitions. Cryptic theatrics from the Martin Dupont ensemble appear on "Just Because" sounding a lot like a Fad Gadget B-side. And if the Deux track "Game & Performance" sounds familiar, it's because you've heard it on the BIPPP compilation which Ed Banger re-released a while back. The compilation is fleshed out with the best death disco groove that Das Kabinette ever mustered on their single "The Cabinet" which did come out on a Minimal Wave lp a while back.
Fantastic!!!!!
The 2009 Summer installment of the Underwater Peoples label sampler was a big hit around here, super cheap, with tons of bands we dug, and a bunch more we had never heard, but end up digging as well. So hear we are a few months later and it's time for the second installment, for Winter 2010, and once again, lots of faves: Julian Lynch, Ducktails, Real Estate, some new discoveries like Pill Wonder (whose full length is reviewed elsewhere on this list), and the embarrassingly named Frat Dad, as well as a whole mess of new names, some of which will join the above on frequent play.
Much like Captured Tracks and Sacred Bones, Underwater Peoples have a sound, and a somewhat solid stable of regulars, so you sort of know what you're getting into, twisted, lo-fi pop, sometimes heavy on the tropical vibe, definitely a distinct surf vibe (or more specifically, some Beach Boys worship), some electronics, some jangly guitars, plenty of fuzz, lots and lots of reverb and delay and echo, but at the core of all these jams is pop, pure and simple, in all sorts of permutations.
Julian Lynch offers up some hazy electronic tinged groove pop, almost like a way more twisted and low fidelity Postal Service, with even dreamier vocals. Pill Wonder sound a bit like Fleet Foxes if they were less folk, and more tweaked pop, complete with lush harmonies and some fake synth strings. Ducktails do their drug addled broken 4-track, island tropical calypso dream pop thing, and it sounds as good as ever. Real Estate go all acoustic, and manage to whip up something pretty lovely and lush. Frat Dad unleash a super distorted chunk of blown out jangle pop. New names this time around that we're digging, Fluffy Lumber, with their warped eighties new wave synth pop, Big Trouble who sound a bit like Jesu or Nadja, if those guys recorded in their bedroom on an old tape deck, and Liam The Younger who kick up a seriously rad nineties sounding chunk of heavy shoegazey indie rock. But there's plenty more. So dig in. The price is definitely right, and odds are at least some (maybe even most) of these jams will end up on a future mix tape or on nonstop repeat play in your headphones...
We know not what "Vasaeleth" means, it sounds sinister, vaguely itchy, certainly evil and obscure enough to be a good name for this new band on Profound Lore (an adventurous metal label that manages to be both deeply cult, and fairly diverse). Although metal fans revel in the distinctions between subgenres impervious to outsiders, Vasaeleth is one of those bands that seems to cross over betwixt death and doom and black metal. If we had to choose, we'd catagorize 'em as death metal, yeah, definitely, but creepy old occultic death metal, that shares a lot of the raw Satanic spirit of the most cvlt-ish black metal. The likes of Portal and Impetuous Ritual, also with recently raved about cds on Profound Lore, come to mind (and also the disc of Cremation demos listed last time) as being the the sort of primal death that appeals to the black metal aesthetic too. Vasaeleth is further evidence that it's coming back (from the grave), that filthy festering old school death metal, the sort that possesses a sludgey doomic vibe as well, harking back to early Obituary, Autopsy, Incantation and that sort of thing.
Shrouded in excellent, arcane cover art (by the same artist, Antichrist Kramer, who did covers for black metal band Inquisition's Magnificent Glorification Of Lucifer and Nefarious Dismal Orations albums) this duo's debut oozes with ancient atmosphere, each song barely emerging from the thick soupy murk, the entire album to be regarded as one crushing ritual from the bowels of hell. Oh, how we love the morbid miasmic tones of the guitar and bass, their congealed riffs shuddering over drumming that sounds like the tramping boots of the legions below! The vokills are continuous, vomitous heavings of guttural grimnity, as if another abstract instrument adding to the dirge-droneiness of this metal of death, which is also embellished by eerie synth as well. Heavy, hypnotic, haunted, so ugly that it becomes beautiful.
Recently, we've been stocking some killer old school death metal on the Razorback label, bands like Skeletal Spectre and Decrepitaph, and this fits with those, though there's a "fun factor" to those Razorback acts that Vasaeleth are just too grim to share, their brand of blackened death being so much more seemingly serious, spiritual, and dare we say it, artistic. And that's awesome as well. Wretchedly recommended!
This is actually the first we've heard from LA black metal trio Welter In Thy Blood, and what an introduction. A super limited, and insanely elaborate lp, three songs, two sides, nearly 30 minutes of creeping, harsh, hellish, doom-ed blackness. WITB are often classified as black metal, but sonically they definitely fall more in line with ultra doom outfits like moss or Khanate, but with a distinctly black streak.
The Transference Of Misery begins with slow sprawl of black ambience, all deep cavernous rumbles, groans and creaks, drips and whirs, distant industrial clatter, barely there tones, all blurred into a swirling sonic abyss. Eventually the second songs surfaces from the murk, even more drones, a particularly hellish blackdrone, that sprawls and oozes, sinister and malevolent, before a strange voice speaks and the song proper kicks in, a spaced out, abstract bit of ultra doom, hellish vocals shrieking over black squalls of crunch and buzz, lots of space in between, ultimately, the various parts coalesce and the song transforms and becomes a black doom plod, the guitars blown out and blurred into streaks of crumbling buzz, the vocals even more harsh and processed, the band lumber along, a hellish sonic death march, slipping occasionally back into dreamy black drift, before returning to the crushing black dirge that dominates the side.
The flipside offers up another sidelong sprawl of creeping black doom, the drums a skeletal framework for more shrieked demonic vokills, moaning gnarled riffage, all detuned and angular, in fact, the B-side sounds quite a bit like a black metal Black Flag at 16rpm. An endless doomic plod, that while plenty hellish and black, is sonically way more Moss or Monument Of Urns or Bunkur, than Deathspell Omega or Funeral Mist. Fucking incredible. Essential listening for the doomlords, the black hordes, and the deathdoomdronedirgedrift obsessed...
Incredibly elaborate and beautiful packaging. Pressed on thick black vinyl, housed in a black inner sleeve with a printed red obi style insert. That sleeve is then housed in a second sleeve, printed black on black, with printed red blood splatters, everything is then wrapped in a thick, gorgeously printed outer slipcover / sleeve. LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!!
We couldn't remember why, exactly, must have read about it sometime long ago in a krautrock reference book, like the Crack In The Cosmic Egg perhaps, but we knew that as fans of early HEAVY '70s stuff - psych, prog, krautrock, proto-metal, what have you - that apparently the German band Wind's 1971 debut Seasons was one to watch out for. Well, it finally just got reissued via the Long Hair label (who have recently brought us several kraut-prog winners from Cannabis India, Mammut, and Et Cetera, amongst others) and so, already curious about it, we ordered a copy of it in...
First impression, before we even put it on, from looking at the photo on the back: damn, for a krautrock band, these guys have some seriously impressive, huge Afros!!! So, a lot of expectation/anticipation/long hair to live up to. And as it turns out, Wind don't blow it (sorry). This album is fine indeed. It hits our "heavy" buttons but also has enough melodic and groove appeal that some of the folks here at AQ who, y'know, don't spend time memorizing stuff out of krautrock reference books or obsessing about 1971 were into it too! So, we ordered some more, and here's our review...
Wind were a five piece: guitar, organ, bass, drums, the singer sometimes busting out flute (yes!) and harmonica. With the organ, they're in the "heavy progressive" mode of a lot of other early krautROCK bands, sounding as much like Deep Purple as they do Can. Both of which are cool by us, and the DO sound like both sometimes. Another once-popular krautrock band they remind us of is Birth Control (who we love, but sadly have never reviewed, relevant reissues seem scarce right now). So that means lots of thumping organ and fuzzy guitar riffs, which do indeed pound forth, especially on opener "What Do We Do Now", and later on the even heavier "Dear Little Friend", but even those songs have their shades of light as well as dark. Wind featured raw sounds and tight playing, on this record definitely conveying an impassioned feeling, in part due to the singer's often gruff, sandpapery voice, that at his toughest makes us think of Nazareth's Dan McCafferty, though at times he can be quite smooth and soulful. His harmonica blowin' on the 16 minute album-closer "Red Morningbird" gives that song an evocative Ennio Morricone / Spaghetti Western vibe, also sounding a lot like one of Can's Soundtracks tracks, and this album might be worth the price of admission alone just for that epic track. Certainly kraut-fans of Birth Control, Murphy Blend, Dies Irae, Gift, early Out Of Focus, will need to hear Wind's Seasons, and like we said it has also been catching the ears of even those here who aren't the biggest prog and proto-metal fiends.
Liner notes in German and English tell us that prior to the release of this album, the members of Wind were involved in recording an exploito-psych LP by "Corporal Gander's Fire Dog Brigade", and did an ill-fated, six-month tour of Vietnam (where there was a war going on, you may recall). But they survived all that to release this debut and another (much softer, we're told) album in '72, calling it a day not long after, having bad luck selling records despite good reviews and success on stage, having played clubs and festivals with the likes of Can, Family, East Of Eden, Pink Floyd and others.
Issued on cd for the first time since its original 1974 release, soul singer Bill Withers' final record for the Sussex label, +'Justments finally sees the light of day. It's a record that bears the weight of the world on its shoulders, recorded at a time when both his personal and professional relationships were falling apart. Fatigued from touring and fighting against label pressures to become more of a high-production showman, Withers created a more introspective and often melancholic soul folk record closer in spirit to Terry Callier than to Marvin Gaye. It's both been lauded as one of the major lost soul records of the seventies and dismissed as a critical disappointment, as it didn't have any of the winning singles previous releases had such as "Ain't No Sunshine", "Lean On Me" or "Use Me". And it pretty much sounded the death knell for the Sussex label that folded shortly after its release, which probably meant it didn't get as much promotion as his other releases did. It's a shame too, because as a whole, it's a really great record. Even though it's proven just to be as polarizing here in the store with some of us loving it and some of us hating it, though those of us who do love it are arguably bigger fans of soul, disco, and R&B than those who don't. Granted, it is a record that focuses on softer and bittersweet soul qualities rather than funk and groove, but it never ever gets treacley. So this may not be the heavy-hitter soul crossover record you are looking for, but for those who like to venture into classic soul's more obscure corners, this one yields plenty of rewards. A great rainy day record!
As we're always pleased to observe, apparently there's an absolutely inexhaustible supply of worthwhile old music awaiting rediscovery, every week it seems we're lucky enough to see another amazing batch of obscure rarities reissued, vintage psych, prog, folk, funk, jazz... We've long thought that the next fertile field for reissue frenzy would be the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal (NWOBHM), and lo, it's happening, there's been a bunch of cool reissues and archival releases hitting the racks in recent weeks, like the Dark Star reviewed last list, Jameson Raid and Bleak House (both of which will be on our next list), and this one - WOLFBANE. Nope, never heard of 'em before either, but man are they great.
The six tracks on this 33 minute cd come from the two demo tapes that this band recorded during their 1980-1983 "career"; raw, rough and riffy rock recorded by a trio consisting of a guitarist named Dee, a bassist named Lee, and two different drummers variously named Syd (demo #1) and Sid (demo #2). Actually, they weren't always a trio, Wolfbane apparently went through several frontmen, but none ever managed to make it into the studio, leaving guitarist Gramie Dee to do the singing on all their recorded demos. Which is awesome, 'cause his voice is actually really cool, and we can't imagine why they'd even have wanted any other singers. He's got a tough, sometimes slightly Ozzyish voice, with a ragged hint of a rasp, that's perfect for Wolfbane's style, which falls on the heavier, doomier side of the NWOBHM scene, having a palpable Sabbath vibe, definitely for those who hold the likes of Witchfinder General and Angel Witch near and dear! The spoken intros are a hoot, the riffs are killer, and they just freakin' rock, doin' songs about werewolves ("Wolfbane" and "The Howling"), love or the lack thereof ("Leave Me"), serial killers (the epic "See You In Hell"), swords & sorcery ("Elric Of Melnibone"), and prostitutes ("Midnight Lady"). What more do you want? Drugs? Vampires? More werewolves? Doubtless had they made it to a demo #3 they'd have done a song about at least one of those subjects (chances are, more werewolves).
The primal DIY-ness of this is totally a plus, Wolfbane exuding underground charisma and true heavy metal spirit to the max. We're so glad these songs have been reissued, we'd have never heard 'em otherwise, and the cd booklet comes complete with a cheeky band history and notes on each track.
More dreamy psychedelic loner-stoner folk from Woods. This time, looped and effected vocals, swirling atmospherics, super tripped out ambience, that gives way to an almost Cure-sounding bit of gloom pop jangle, before slipping right back into more of that lugubrious lysergic drift. The song gradually builds back up to that propulsive new wave jangly gloom, wrapped in a glimmering web of super effected, and dizzyingly tangled muted guitar melodies.
The flipside is more of the same, woozy and gloomy, soaring layered ethereal vocals, falsetto, queasy slightly off harmonies over shimmery minor key melodies, plenty of jangle, a bit like a slightly more twisted Beach Boys, via Animal Collective, via an old shack in the Woods. The second track on the B side is even more abstract and ethereal, a spooky bit of spectral drift, that manages to be haunting and lovely, while seemingly constantly on the verge of falling apart. Awesome.
Issue 4 of this upstart mag, covering all things grime and dubstep and reggae. Definitely a godsend, considering how underrepresented grime and dubstep remains in the US. The biggest issue yet, this one features dubstepper Untold on the cover. Inside: Hessle Audio, Sci-Fi and Reggae, Newham Generals, Michael Smith: Dub Poet, UK Dubplate Houses, Tony Thorpe and loads more. As well as tons of reviews. Most of the stuff in each issue is new to us, but usually has us tracking music down by a handful of the artists featured. The only bummer is that lots of the stuff here, especially the records that get reviewed, seem nearly impossible to get here in the States, but it's still a great read, and even though these guys seem to be way ahead of the game, a lot of the stuff covered is starting to make its way over here. This way you'll be ready!
Jamie Stewart. Some people love him, and some people hate him and some people REEEAAAALLYY love him. Anyone who can inspire that much passion one way or the other has some kind of gift that most do not. Or is it a curse? Anyway, Dear God, I Hate Myself (a Jamie Stewart album title that seems overdue) is most definitely a Xiu Xiu album that will make longtime fans love him that much more and dismissers keep on dismissing. Parts of it harken back to the cacaphony and sweet angst of Knife Play or Fabulous Muscles. Other tracks lean more towards straight (no pun intended) dance music ("This Too Shall Pass Away") and even a little country ("Cumberland Gap"). Through it all, though, is the excellent drum machine programming mixed with all kinds of live percussion and whisper/screamed vocals that give Xiu Xiu their unique sound. The cd version comes with a download code for two bonus tracks.
