One of three new discs in the latest series of lovingly hand made 3" cd-r's from the Grey Daturas' Diagnosis... Don't! label (the other two being Bonecloud and Nigel Wright, reviewed elsewhere on this list). Poerua Acid features two looooong tracks from beloved NZ noisemaker and PseudoArcana label head honcho Antony Milton, and is the perfect mix of his two sides of his sonic personality, one side lilting dreamy and melodic, the other, dense, muted and noisy.
The opening track begins with just guitar, all warbly and slightly out of tune, the tape speed shifting and changing speed, making it sound like the sound on one of those grade school film strips, warm and wreathed in reverb, underneath, strange little swells and swirls drift and shimmer. Over the course of the track, the delicate finger picked melodies sink deeper and deeper into the background, until all that's left is a blown out muddy dronescape of overlapping rumbles and haunting flute like melodies.
The second track is much less restrained, opening up with a thick wall of guitars, dense and tangled, thick with distortion, roiling and overblown, garbled vocals and all manner of mysterious melodies lurk ghostlike beneath an epic expanse of layered guitar grind, like a more blissed out and melodic Sunroof! or Hototogisu.
Packaged in thick textured maroon paper mini 3" sleeves, with a printed (band name, label info, liner notes) Japanese style obi. Nice.
And as always, these are SUPER LIMITED, and odds are we won't be able to get more. So don't dawdle...
A one sided vinyl monster. Grinding splattery chaos. Super distorted rhythms beneath thick slabs of ultra distorted hiss and waves of crumbling crunch. That is the sound of Australia's Antipan, a fourpiece that traffics in spaced out aggressive free rock ambience. Or Neu! metal minimalism. Either way it's a gloriously unholy racket. Echoey guitars and streaks of feedback, all tangled up into a dense wall of krautrocky chaos, with buried vocals, and dense squalls of acid fried guitar malfunction and jagged melodic fragments. Those harsher moments are balanced by long stretches of distorted drone and glitchy throb, very reminiscent of their equally noisy countrymen Aufgehoben and Shit And Shine.
Pressed on SUPER thick bubblegum pink vinyl, one sided, the other side features an etching by Rizili from the Menstruation Sisters. Includes a dayglo pink insert, packaged in a hand screened, individually numbered pink on black sleeve.
LIMITED TO 275 COPIES. We only got eight, so you do the math...
Latest solo outing from one member of space-doom outronauts Bong, and like the Bong mothership, Basillica traffic in a murky, druggy, blackness, but where Bong is definitely rocking and have a sort of sitar-ed Hawkwind going, Basillica are way more free form and abstract, a sort of oozing lysergic black ambience, here a single track that sprawls like some thick slowly swirling cloud of rumbles and whirs, of muted melodies and cavernous chordal washes, at moments it sounds almost like a gamelan at 1rpm, a warped underwater warble, the melodies like strange shadow beasts struggling in vain to extricate themselves from the black sonic tarpit that is the core of Rotting Desert Queen And The Black Isolator Radar Strip.
And for a murky druggy bit of abstract ambience, there's definitely a lot going on here, wah guitars are effected until they barely resemble guitars at all, vibrating strings create ripples in the slowly pulsing sea of sound, occasionally shards of high end, or fragments of melodies break through, almost like a stray beam of sunlight, creating even more shadows, and causing the surrounding sounds to slowly swarm and swallow the sunlight whole.
Muddy and washed out, haunting and subterranean sounding, these sounds are also strangely soothing, as if you were floating in some underwater tributary, just below the surface, the water heated by the molten rock beneath, the black tide carrying you through all manner of caverns, the sound and light reflecting off the constantly undulating surface of the cavern walls, and then filtering through the swirling currents, becoming warped and warbly before finally settling in your fluid filled ears. Cool cool cool. Not to mention dark and heavy and druggily dreamy.
It's been a while since we've heard from Australia's Grey Daturas or any of the various related combos. It's only really because for a year or two, it was almost like they lived here. Constantly on tour, using SF as home base. We'd see them at shows, in the shop. And we haven't had much new besides the Neurot full length, but we do have a big order of Daturas and other goodies waiting to ship, so that'll take care of that.
But for those who just can't wait, we have collab number two from Blarke Bayer and Black Widow (we might have one or two copies of the first one, see elsewhere on the site), BB being Ben Andrews of down under grind commando unit Agents of Abhorrence, and Black Widow being Rob MacManus from the Grey Daturas, and it's another set of three songs, clocking in at just less than a half hour, and is just as sonically varied (but slightly jazzier, more on that in a minute) as their first tete a tete.
The opener is a skittery free jazz drift, little fragments of piano drifting in a black expanse, the drums chaotic and powerful, very free, shuffling subtly one second, exploding into frenzied fills the next, all the while a sax moans and bleats and skronks, its long tones laid over the proceedings like high end streaks, giving the track a weird free jazz drone vibe. The second track is more of a thick guitary drone, the drums relegated to mute throb and pulse, demarcating a slowly smoldering smear of shimmering strings, swirling feedback, abstract melodic fragments, some post rock lope, some Morricone-ish twang, some crackle and hiss, the drums lazy and laid back, some sort of doomed minimal slowcore drift. Quite lovely. Wouldn't mind a whole disc of this stuff. The duo finish off with a super minimal low end exploration, so minimal we hesitate to describe it as a drone, it's more like a collection of ambient sounds, the distant whir of a building's machinery, the sound of air circulating, the distant murmur of conversation, but take all that and blur it and mute it into a barely there ghost of sound, over which a series of electrical impulses are transmitted, glitch, crackle, super subtle electronic textures drifting above a music so subtle and minimal it could almost be the sound of your speakers humming. Intense and quite beautiful, but may require some high powered headphones to truly appreciate.
More mysterious and otherworldy sounds from our favorite Australian free folk brother / sister duo, and it sounds just as good as ever. Their sound is still like a down under cousin to the foresty folk of Finnish groups like Avarus and Anaksimandros, which makes a lot of sense since both groups end up releasing records on many of the same labels.
This is BOTOS's first release for Italian cd-r label Akoustic Desease (another AD release, Siddhi, is reviewed elsewhere on this list) and it's a beaut. Mixing soft shimmery strum, convoluted glitched out electronic stutter, dark ominous drones, tribal rhythms, abstract ambience into a sprawling exploration of lost sonic rituals and stumbling noise making free for alls.
The percussion is mostly found (at least it sounds that way), clanks and clunks, rattles and scrapes, here and there some actual drumming surface, but even then it's simple and muted, various strings buzz and creak and scrape, bits of twang, atonal strum, detuned chords, all wound into stretched out melodic tangles, above it all, flutes flutter, horns moan and whistle, it's all gloriously ramshackle, the vibe is a bunch of folks gathered around a pile of noisemakers, in the shade of a big tree beneath a blue sky and Summer sun. It's not at all dark or creepy or ominous, it's more festive and celebratory, voices drift in and out, chimes tinkle, bells ring, drums skitter, occasionally everything locks into a distinct groove, sounding almost like some skeletal krautrock, but for the most part, the sound meanders and drifts, lazy and lost, laid back and content, carefree and happy.
Housed in an oversized ultra thick fold over cardstock sleeve, the cd affixed to a nub inside, LIMITED TO 116 COPIES, each one hand numbered!!
One of the things we like to do with records (especially cd-r's) from all these new freenoise forest folk abstract tribal space whateveryoucallit folks is to list the vast array of instruments utilized in the making of their records. Sometimes it's an impossible long list of everything and the kitchen sink and we have to wonder why it took a bathtub and an umbrella and an electric toothbrush and 17 different kinds of guitars and at least a few things like a boot or a lamp that don't really make any useful noise at all to make a soft barely audible drone. Or we marvel at how the heck a spatula and six pairs of unwashed socks could produce one of the most gorgeous ambient records ever (we just made that up so don't get all excited). One instrument though that we rarely see is the trumpet. We're sure someone has used a trumpet at one time or another, but probably never to as great affect as Stuart Busby, who some of you might remember from the Gold Leaf Branches compilation we reviewed a while back. This latest release from Mr. Busby is a double 3" cd-r and features two twenty minute suites for trumpet, the equally underutilized glockenspiel, ukulele (ditto!) and voice.
Disc one, North, is the softer and more abstract of the two, warm woozy streaks of muted tonal color, like staring at the sky moments after the sun sets, everything blue and purple, stars barely visible through the soft haze of the dusky not yet night sky. The trumpet is transformed into something entirely un-trumpet like, a soft billowy bed of drone and drift above which the glockenspiel tinkles soft serene melodies.
Disc two, South, is much more active, the trumpet becoming the focal point, warm weary melodies are repeated and layered into dense but still airy washes of sound, sometimes sounding almost Western, like some long lost super abstract Morricone score, other times sounding ominous and haunting, like the music that would accompany a character's flashback in a grainy black and white film from the fifties. So gorgeous.
Packaged in a cool mini-gatefold designed by Mr. Busby himself.
An awesome three way collaboration, five way label split, with each artist using mainly sounds contributed by one of the other artists. The three include Andrey Kiritchenko who runs the Nexsound label, Ukrainian abstract drone folk combo the Moglass and Anla Courtis formerly of the mighty Reynols! A strange combination but it definitely works, with each artist twisting and turning the sounds of the others into something completely their own.
Kiritchenko uses sounds sourced from Anla Courtis, but also incorporates bandura, guitar, objects and field recordings. His first two tracks are thick glistening snarls of keening high end, ringing chimes, warm processed warble, grinding industrial whir, all coaxed gently from his super limited palette. His final track is our favorite, a super spare cavernous soundscape, constructed from swirling wind like whirls and muted white noise hiss. Over the top is a stumbling damaged, deconstructed guitar melody that scrapes and buzzes and rumbles. So good.
The Moglass also use mostly Anla Courtis sounds, introducing guitars, synth and vocals. And as you might imagine, they manage to turn those disparate sounds into dark dronelike dreamscapes of slow oceanic swells, thick buzzing rumble, and an occasional blast of super strange circusy psychedelic freak out, a dizzying collision of scraping strings, creepy falsetto vocals, moans and chants and all sorts of falling apart melodies.
Finally, Courtis gets the chance to return the favor, borrowing a little from both the Moglass and Kiritchenko. His first three tracks are assembled using ONLY sounds taken from the Moglass, the results vary, from murky shimmer, to glistening ambience, soft blissed out whir, to sparse skeletal industrial landscapes. The last two tracks again feature Courtis using only sounds borrowed from Kiritchenko, one ends up being a super pare abstract mechanical percussive shuffle, lots of creaks and clatter, sounding a bit like a rainforest, or some sort of giant shower, the final track is wash of fuzzy clang that sort of settles into a dense field of tightly woven chimes and tinkles, amidst a swirling sea of hiss and fuzz.
An amazing concept that actually produces some incredibly beautiful results!
There are plenty of ways to make noise with a guitar. Lord knows the aQ list is proof of that. Whether it's running a guitar through a computer the spews out soft pixelated hum, or leaning a guitar against an amp and letting huge waves of black buzz pour out, or strapping one to a table and attacking it with all manner of toys and implements resulting in plenty of scrape and scrabble, or just running a guitar through a million effects pedals until what comes out the other side is nothing but streaks and blurs and rumbles and roars and barely retains any guitarness at all.
Then there's whatever the hell Alex Nagle does to his guitar that transforms it into Csection. Nagle's name might be familiar to you as the man behind the genius Flittermice Of Eld, a 'group' who took a handful of notes from a Darkthrone song and turned them into a heaving mass of dark drones and fractured buzz. Csection finds Nagle again doing unspeakable and confusional things to his guitar, and again the results are pretty fantastic.
A single 25 minute track, beginning with some weirdly digitized distortion drenched guitar shredding, that sounds a bit like it's been run through a Commodore 64, sheets of high spread out over all manner of strange crumbling low end, detuned riffage, that high end spiraling into squiggly clusters of rapid fire notes one second, sprawling out into a shimmering stretch of soft noise the next. Over the course of the track, the guitar becomes less and less recognizable, at one point shifting into a gloriously burnished field of high end streaks, all assembled into some strange alien melody, while within, various overtones clash and collide, blend and beat feverishly against one another. Imagine Phil Niblock composing for high end shred guitar, or a droned out more static version of one of Mick Barr's maniacal projects (Orthrelm, Octis, Orcrilim).
There are moments here and there, when the high end drops out, and the sound briefly becoming more of a gnarled angular drift, with Marc Ribot like guitars floating in spaced out fields of reverb, atonal, and haltingly melodic, but those interludes are usually quite fleeting, quickly subsumed by still more squalls of Nagle's frazzled and fucked up digital buzz.
This is a super limited cd-r, we've had them a while, so there's a good chance that when we sell out we won't be able to get more. Packaged in cool hand screened red and silver digipacks...
Another in this new super limited series of 3" cd-r's from Public Guilt, who you might remember having co-released the mindblowing Untitled 3cd box set, a collection of noise music, then ended up being more music than noise (only slightly) and got us excited about noisemusic all over again.
The only time we had ever heard from Decimation Blvd, was on that very same compilation, but it's not the only time we've heard from Tradd Sanderson, who is Decimation Blvd., as he is the famed "noise choker" for the mighty Cream Abdul Babar, quite possible the best band ever with the worst name ever. Sanderson contributed lots of grind and grrrrr, skree and shriek, buzz and drone to CAB's punishing metallic post rock.
But here, Sanderson is loosed from the confines of being a backup player in a rock band, and employs an arsenal of electronics and synths, samples and guitars, and carves out a super creepy post industrial cinematic soundscape, that veers from glistening almost Oval like underwater blissout, to crumbling Skinny Puppy like ambience, to full on squalls of white noise, muted into murky whirs and peppered with electronic glitch and buried percussion, to shrieking high end chaos, finally finishing off with the very creepy closing track, HUGE, but spare pounding percussion, dense flurries of grinding electronics, thick washes of distorted whir, and a final burst of face melting sonic fury.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!! Packaged in screenprinted mini 3" foldout sleeves, orange and black ink, with a printed insert on shimmery metallic paper.
We've been trying to track down some Devillock for ages, and while we've yet managed to get any cds, we have finally gotten a batch of this super limited lp. The solo ambient drone project of Tone Filth label head honcho Justin Chris Meyers (who also performs as Panther Skull), Devillock is a lot more dreamy and blissful than the name might lead you to believe.
Deep, dark distant sonic clouds rolling in at a snail's pace, tones are stretched out into long sinewy smears, bits of glitch and electronic skitter, bob along like detritus floating in some black stream. Everything enveloped in warm billowy buzz, eventually all tangled up with stuttering streaks of upper register skree, while in the background, the constant ebb and flow of cavernous churning industrial rumbles.
The flip side is similar, but if anything, even more abstract and minimal, sounding almost like a black ambient Niblock, all looooooooong tones, subtly shifting overtones, some super creepy slowed down monkey like growls and guttural vocalizations, and little chunks of gritty electronic static and muted buzzing interference. Haunting and serene, yet subtly fierce and intense.
Packaged in super subtle, hand painted chipboard sleeves, every one different, the front adorned with a super abstract bit of Pollock-y paint, LIMITED TO 333 COPIES, each copy hand numbered.
Swedish conceptualists Leif Elggren and Thomas Liljenberg have published "Experiments With Dreams," a book which collects a number of outlandish letters to politicians, film stars, and business leaders, positing absurdist questions and claiming that the
"Two Thin Eating One Fat" appears to be a much more personal documentation of Elggren's and Liljenberg's dream communication, as they have recorded themselves quietly mumbling meandering narratives which are marked by strange political rhetoric and the repeated phrase "let me in." Thick metallic drones, distant pounding drums, and rhythmic exercises with a piezo buzzer accompany and at times interrupt the ongoing spoken murmur. While all of these recordings found on "Two Thin Eating One Fat" were originally produced for various collaborative installations and performances, there is remarkable consistency to this collection which articulates the absurdist intellect behind this artistic pairing.
Newest release from Belgian sound manipulator Peter Smeekins aka Formatt. A dense mix of soft droney shimmer and all manner of glitch and crunch. Imagine hearing Low or some other slow motion band through a concrete wall so thick that just the bare essence makes it through, a sort of ghostly outline, a dreamy, barely audible hum, then stretch it into a gauzy soft sound blanket and spread it out over the whole record. This soft, shimmery bed is the foundation for all of Re:Take_Repeat. Over the top of this Formatt fiddles and fidgets, like some tinkering mad scientist, glitches and crackle, bursts of shortwave interference, white noise, industrial machinery, haunting EVP like transmissions, pops and creaks, amp buzz and distant feedback, it's like some giant mysterious soundmaker upended his rusty old tool box full of sounds and dumped all of those strange sharp metallic shapes, all over the thick velvety background, like stars sparkling chaotically in the black night sky.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. We managed to get the last 20 so once these are gone they are gone for good!
Wow, is that a mouthful. The band is called Ghosts Brames Of The Cerf's Magickal and the record's called For Every Hang Thy Dreamy Spell, Round Mountain Star And Heather Bell. WTF? Nothing there could possibly prepare you for he dreamy drift contained within. GBOTCM is another project of French outfit the Reggaee, who have teamed up with some like minded musical alchemists for a late night ritual of simple guitar strum and strange disembodied percussion. Minor key buzz and twang, stretched out over a murky low end throb, with bits of fluttery flute, a bit of dark and drifting campfire forestfolk, ominous and melancholy, laid back and shadow lit. Eventually, this flickering folks is joined by soft swells of subterranean drone and brief burbles of spacey FX, adding to the dreamy drift but never disrupting the tranquil ambience.
LIMITED TO 49 COPIES!!!
One hails from the rust belt of Michigan, fostering all sorts of sick tones through his Chondritic Sound imprint; and the other inflicts an acerbic noise through his internationally acclaimed No Fun Festival and the accompanying label No Fun Productions. Together, Hive Mind and Giffoni join forces for a rather misanthropic, grim, oppressive set of crunched noises and radioscopic synth throb.
Both tracks incrementally build up lurches of distortion that push out oozing rumbles of low-end and bristling amplifications of electrical static. Heavy synth with an industrial / power electronic mindset that's exactly where you expect Giffoni and Hive Mind to meet. Also see Broken Flag era Ramleh, Whitehouse, and Wolf Eyes. As with all Ultra Eczema titles, this sports a very nicely silkscreened cover. Only 300 copies in print. We will probably not be able to restock this!!!
First proper full length from this mysterious ambient drone noise ensemble. After a super limited cd-r and an also quite limited lp, this cd offers up 33 minutes of Glass Organ's crumbling corrosive drones, ambient, but -active- ambience, bordering on speaker shredding noise at moments, but spending much of its time drifting through dark and murky landscapes of minimal shimmer and subterranean rumble.�
Three tracks, each 11:11 long, this Devillock side project is ultimately a drone record, but GO's drones are twisted into all sorts of different shapes and sounds. The opening track begins with a dense hot static white noise keening feedback burst of blinding grind and roar, before suddenly transforming into burbling underwater whirs, before the corrosive noise of the opening returns, only this time looped into some almost melodies, making it sounds like some sort of damaged My Bloody Valentine outtake.�
The second chunk of 11 minutes and 11 seconds begins in moody mumble minimal mode, before bits of crumbling distortion begin to surface, eventually taking over completely turning the tranquil ambience into some serious blown out guitar drone a la Sunroof! / Hototogisu, all keening high end and grinding abrasive guitar growl. The final 11 minutes (and ii seconds!) is like part two of the second track, the same sort of ultra skree starting�out, this time way lower in the mix, a sort of low level rumble and scrape, which is soon joined by some super distorted psychedelic guitars, noodling and slithering and generally wrapping the low end rumble in sparkling tendrils of white hot guitar buzz. Surprisingly melodic and blissed out.�
Definitely for fans of Sunroof!, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Hototogisu, Burning Star Core, Wolf Eyes and similar practitioners of high end raga skree...
Packaged in a gorgeous and ultra minimal fold together cardstock sleeve, embossed design and text on a white sleeve, very white on white and quite striking. LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
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You can't go wrong with a 'goat' band name. Goat Horn, Lubricated Goat, Floating Goat, Lost Goat, Goatsnake, Goatsnake, Goatsblood, Goatlord, Goat Fire and of course Goat Thrower, so what if you just got rid of all that extraneous stuff, the throwing and the blood and the lubrication and got right down to it, the goat. Thus we have simply Goat, a one man American noise band who . So what if this Goat teamed up with one of our favorite masters of the apocalyptic dark ambient drone, Nordvargr? Well, then of course you'd end up with a creature known simply as Goatvargr, that sonically straddles the mysterious martial darkworld of Henrik Nordvargr Bjorkk and the harsh caustic brutality of Andy O' Sullivan (aka Goat).
Huge expanses of industrial creak and groan, blown out beats buried under piles of sonic debris, face melting bursts of acidic distortion and crumbling walls of guitar grind, distant martial beats stretched out over smears of black sound and buried desiccated vocals, squealing sheets of feedback and layer after layer of Merzbowian murk. This is most definitely a noise record, but Nordvargr injects enough of his subtle darkness and penchant for strange beatscapes to keep the proceedings appropriately damaged, dreary and darkly demented. Recommended for the iron eared with hearts of noise! Great stuff!
Brand new record from SF weirdos Hans Grusel's Krankenkabinet, who according to most reliable sources include members of SF underground rock institution Caroliner Rainbow. Which makes sense when you see them live. Caroliner would perform amidst wild hand made cardboard and foam landscapes, whereas Hans Grusel perform with huge wooden houses on their heads, like a suburban Residents.
This latest disc is a brain melting chunk of avant what-the-fuck dada-esque soundscaping, pulsing underwater rhythms, lots of kitcheny clatter (sounding at times like a pots and pans This Heat), dolphin sounds processed into creeped out soundscapes, bits of shouting and wheezing music boxes, tapespeed warble and confusional stretches of atonal sonic collage. Just a synapse frying blast of gurgle and grind and hiss and drone and crunch and creak, like someone dosed Nurse With Wound and let Stapleton and company wander in some abandoned music shop armed with hammers, microcassette recorders and huge wooden houses to wear on their heads. Weird and wonderfully damaged.
It's not so much like staring into a funhouse mirror, it's more like bashing your head against it over and over and over until it shatters and you can finally see and hear exactly what strange things exist on the other side.
Pressed on thick clear vinyl and housed in a HUGE 6 panel fold out poster sleeve, one side adorned with angry anthropomorphic houses, the inside, those same houses rendered in full color, given bodies, and allowed to roam and misbehave in an eyepopping, bad trip, small town landscape!
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
A new lp from long beloved noisemakers Hoor-Paar-Kraat. Well, not entirely new, as one side was previously released as a super limited 3"cd-r, but considering how limited that was, most of you will be hearing all of this stuff for the first time.
The A side, previously released on Small Doses, is a tripped out burst of mysterious musical abstraction. Two tracks, clocking in at about 18 minutes total, an abstract and spacious drift through some lost alien soundscape. The first track is all tinkling melodies, glistening high end, strange rumbling fluctuations way off in the distance, bits of creak and scrape, everything bathed in foggy reverb and warm wet swirls of tape hiss and atmospheric whir. Melodies creep in and out, as do bits of field recordings, it all feels like some cinematic bleary eyed wander through a hazy druggy flashback, a washed out world of lost memories and fragmented dreams. Here and there guitars grind and reverberate, and strange percussive sonic events drift into earshot, like an even more abstract Wolf Eyes maybe. Quite gorgeous and dreamlike.
The second track starts out the same, a smear of high end shimmer, but instead of spreading out into languid pools of blurry sound, things get decidedly more abrasive, the high end becomes sharper, the percussion is more clattery and jarring, a disembodied voice intones some creepy monologue over the top, effects swirl and swoop, deconstructed riffs chug and churn, everything dizzying and disorienting, like the nightmare analogue to the opening track's dream.
The flipside also offers up two tracks, the first begins with a swirl of creaking metal, sizzling cymbals, clattery percussion, until suddenly the clang and crunch are transformed into a strangely rhythmic crunch, the metal sounding much deeper, more of a resonant bellow, all very chaotic and cacophonous, underpinned by deep distant rumbles. Which leads right into track number two, all birdsong and tinkling chimes, whispered voices, random sonic detritus, sharp slivers of momentary buzz, soft smears of static, very haunting and ominous and like the first side, quite cinematic.
Beautifully packaged as always, pressed on thick vinyl, housed in full color sleeves with super striking artwork from HPK mainman Anthony Mangicapra. We know it's LIMITED too, just not sure to how many.
Even to this day, people are constantly singing the praises of Godflesh. Talking about how influential they were. And rightfully so. Cuz they were, certainly. But there was another band back then, who were just as amazing. And who sounded quite a bit like the 'Flesh. But had their own take on the whole metallic industrial plod thing. Pitchshifter were often painted in the press as Godflesh ripoffs, but as far as we're concerned, there was plenty of room for more than one pounding industrial metal outfit! And in many ways, Pitchshifter were a bit more interesting. Heavier a lot of the time, definitely more 'metallic', and with some seriously killer riffs, but they also let the drum machine take center stage sometimes, embracing their machine like rhythms, filling breaks with weird stuttering skitters and rapid fire machine gun rhythms. Don't get us wrong, we LOVE Godflesh, but we love Pitchshifter too. A lot!!!
So we were super psyched to discover that there was a new band, self described "industrial driven doom", featuring some Pitchshifter guys doing, well, industrial doom, as if they weren't already sort of doing that back in the day anyway. So here it is. Hordes Of Satan (bit of a naff name), four songs of crushing machinelike doom, and weirdly enough, it doesn't sound all that different than Pitchshifter. Slower, heavier maybe, but still immediately recognizable as the 'Shifter. Machinelike rhythms, massive downtuned guitars, growled death metal vocals (again not all that different than Pitchshifter). Crushingly heavy and intense, it sounds like Godflesh or Pitchshifter at 10 rpm, sludgy and doomy but churning and relentless. And pretty fucking scary. One of the tracks features a cool bridge with some scary sample looped and repeated over a churning drum machine and a throbbing bass line and the vibe is seriously Skinny Puppy! And as if to drive the whole Pitchshifter thing home, they even do a Pitchshifter cover, "Landfill", and guess what? It sounds like Pitchshifter, only slower and heavier. Which as far as we're concerned is fucking awesome!
All this Jesu stuff lately had us hankering for Godflesh, and thus missing Pitchshifter, so this Hordes Of Satan is quick becoming out new favorite slab of heaviness!!
For those of you who have had the opportunity to witness the live reincarnation of Nurse With Wound over the past couple of years, there are two bald men making funny noises usually on either side of Steven Stapleton. One is Andrew Liles, who had run the table in terms of a release schedule in 2007 releasing 14 full albums of eccentric drones and abstracted collages, some of which were pretty darn good, but could maybe have used some editing. The other bald man is M.S. Waldron, whose slowly trickled releases are impeccable constructions of modern day Surrealism through audio sorcery, clearly not in any need of an editor whatsoever. Outside of NWW, he's been toiling away in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California under the unwieldy moniker irr. app. (ext.).
This split release with Chicago's Panicsville has been in the works for many years now, finally seeing the light of day in early 2008. The irr. app. (ext.) half of the equation slowly spirals from one assemblage of discombobulated field recordings, agitated ether, and curious atmospherics into another set of equally malformed sounds, much like a black-acid kaleidoscope. Yes, it makes perfect sense that Stapleton would want Waldron to assist in Nurse performances, as he clearly has talent at taking weird noise making to a sublime level of abstraction.
With a name like Panicsville, the expectations were of an obstinant noise project; but instead, this splatter of mechanoid gestures pocking sea-sick drones is a worthy companion to irr. app. (ext.)'s sidereal brilliance. So good in fact, that we may seek out further recordings. So good in fact, that you too should pick this thing up. Limited to 500 copies.
With an artist as prolific as Jason Lescalleet, we're a little ashamed that we've only ever managed to list two of his releases. And both of those were fantastic. One a super limited cd-r on Campbell Kneale's Celebrate Psi Phenomenon label, the other a collaboration with fellow sound artist and long time AQ fave John Hudak. We'll try to remedy that, beginning with this most recent release, an epic and incredibly lovingly assembled sonic tribute to Lescalleet's father who passed away in 2005.
A lot of drone music, minimal experimental music, while sounding cool, often amazingly cool, doesn't always resonate emotionally. A lot of it is dark and mysterious, moody or melancholy, but without lyrics, and with minimal melody, it's hard to convey much emotion. A select few, those with a deft hand at sculpting sound, are able to infuse even the most minimal of musics with feeling and emotion, but lots of music is simply an assemblage of interesting sounds, which truth be told is often enough.
For The Pilgrim, Lescalleet has created an incredibly emotional and moving tribute in sound, to his father, who found a strange and surprising appreciation for his son's music. A combination of field recordings, old tape recordings and live performance, this set is both musically ambitious, and sweetly personal. A combination that in less capable hands could have turned into something maudlin and schmaltzy, instead, The Pilgrim is simply beautiful.
The picture disc features two recordings, both moving in their own way. The first is a live performance recorded shortly after the discovery that his Father's cancer was terminal. Lescalleet begins the set by reading an email from his father, where he explains how much he liked his son's music, and how it reminded him of being young and laying on the floor of the car and feeling the vibrations rumble through his body. And the sounds of bells. Both rich memories for his father. So Lescalleet performs a piece incorporating those elements, the parts of his music that so moved his father. And it is indeed lovely. Deep rumbles, subtle whirs, slowly drifting from barely there shimmer to cavernous roar, but usually hovering dreamily somewhere in between. Toward the end, the sound grows more corrosive, with subtle rhythms surfacing amidst the crackle and buzz, before winding down to silence.
The second recording is a little difficult to listen to, and is extremely intense and personal. While Lescalleet's father was in the hospital, he gave him a hand held recorder, thinking it might lift his spirits to be able to record messages and his thoughts. But his father was incapable of having long conversations, so the whole side is a recording of a hospital room, with bits of mumbled speech, footsteps, snatches of conversations in the hall, very stark and lonely sounding, the room giving the recording a strange natural reverb. Incredibly moving...
The cd is a new 70 minute piece based on those same sounds Lescalleet's father found so appealing: bells, chimes, rumbling vibrations. And it's a gorgeous piece of minimal dronemusic. Murky and bleary eyed, a slow almost funereal drift, the low end sometimes throbbing like the engine of a car, but just as often glistening in abstract smears. Part way through, more and more melody surfaces amidst the dreamy drones, before the track devolves into some serious, and very cathartic noise, crumbling, ultra distorted howls of white noise and blown out buzz, eventually fading out, leaving just the voice of Jason's daughter singing to her grandfather while he was in the hospital, an old Irish folk song. As her song ends, the record drifts off with a dark and barely audible coda of softly struck bells. So intense and poignant and absolutely gorgeous to listen to.
The packaging is divine as well, a deluxe gatefold sleeve, a rich blue on the outside, inside a painting by Lescalleet's brother of their Dad, as well as the printed out email. The lp is a picture disc, one side an old fashioned tape reel, the other a photo of Lescaleeet's Dad eating cake. Inside is a deluxe booklet, with the cd in a pouch on the inside of the cover, lots of liner notes, photos, notes on each track and the whole story of this record.
Elsewhere on this list we're reviewing the vinyl reissue of a long out off print cd-r featuring an AQ wet dream collaboration between Australia's Grey Daturas and Portland's (formerly SF's) Yellow Swans. Here we have a similar match up, but instead of those two bands butting heads in a dense noisy free for all, Maggoted is the secret rendezvous of just two like minded souls. Rob Mayson from the Grey Daturas and Pete Swanson of the Yellow Swans. You can almost picture the scene. Two guitarists, a bassist, drummer, keyboards, lots of noise, a big glorious ear splitting drone drenched racket, when Pete leans over and whispers in Rob's ear "Psst. You wanna go somewhere, umm, a little less crowded, you know, just you and me?" So the two secret off, and whip up their own private din. 30 minutes of droning grinding industrial free noise ambience, that ends up being as good as anything either one has done on their own.
There's definitely a like-minded approach to sound making shared by the Swans and the Daturas, obvious on their collaboration, and even more evident here when it's just one on one. Huge slabs of corrosive distorted whir, are separated by stretches of haunting tranquility, peppered with strange little sonar like tones, sort of industrial, a definite creeped out dark ambience, grinding and lumbering like Godflesh with all the metal removed, leaving nothing but a huge dense amorphous heaviness. By the end of the first 15 minute tracks, all the subtle dynamics and mysterious industrialism has been swallowed up completely by sheets of white noise and squalls of brutal hiss. The second 15 minute track follows a similar pattern. A dreamy muted drift, with boiling teapot high end skree way in the background, a moaning minimal drone right underneath, wavering and warbling below, with soft fluttering notes and lower register melodies drifting and swirling like whisps of black smoke. As the two meander darkly through this subtle sound world, a distant wave of white noise and damaged electronics threatens to overtake them, building into a frothing fury, before completely burying them in a thick swirl of cracked glitch and buzz and wild whipping streaks of grinding guitarnoise. Woah!
Packaged in a cool blue on black handscreened sleeve with photocopied insert.
LIMITED TO 150 COPIES, OF WHICH WE GOT ABOUT 40!!
- MPEG stream: One
- MPEG stream: Two
This is the first we've heard from the brilliantly named Manbeard, the fucked up freak folk cabaret offshoot of old aQ faves Urdog. Here they share a cd-r with furry Finnish folk combo Avarus, originally a tour only release, and while it might not seem like it, weirdly it's kind of a good match. Manbeard are tough to explain. Very jaunty and sing songy, almost like sea shanties, big drums, dramatic WAY over the top vocals, angular riffing, a little bit gloomy and dark, gothic even, with squiggly synths, damaged percussion, and really twisted songs. And really bizarre overdubs, strange characters making announcements, speaking to the listener, adding their 2 cents to various songs. Definitely an acquired taste, but if you're into the same weird stuff we are, then acquiring it might not be that difficult. The weird thing is, this disc is jam packed with short-ish Manbeard songs, then right in the middle, tack 5 in fact, is the ONE Avarus song, a massive half hour jam, recorded live, all ramshackle rhythms, and detuned guitars, chanted vocals, fluttering woodwinds, raga like buzzing, stumbling druggy far out freaked out damaged outsider genius for sure. It sounds like a blast, like they just set up on the street in the middle of rush hour, and their merrymaking just sucked in a massive crowd, dancing and howling and whooping and wildly frolicking through the streets of Helsinki. At least that's what it sounds like.�
Then it's time again for more Manbeard weirdness, fragmented song experiments, fucked up drones, lo-fi off kilter bedroom folk, fractured dada-ist pop and whatever else crossed their twisted musical minds.�
In cool hand screened color sleeves, with printed inserts. We got these direct from The Manbeard when he was in town, and he mentioned these might be the last copies, so if we run out that might be it.
MPEG Stream: MANBEARD "Original Performance Of The Manbeard Denizens Folk Classic, Manbearde Folk Classic, Manbeard Factory" [/audio/manbeardoriginal.m3u]
Although they didn't start out that way, for this album, the musical entity that goes by the name Mar has become a mini super group of glistening glacial proportions. Its central figure is one Mr. Kyle Reidy originally from Arkansas, but its guest membership here includes Jimmy Lavalle of The Album Leaf and Mum's Samuli Kosminen. Recorded at Syrland Studios in Iceland (that would be Sigur Ros' studio!), The Silence is a drowsy drifting affair with whispery male vocals that not unsurprisingly nestles in perfectly with the Lavalle and Kosminen's main projects. Reidy mines the aching emotional depths with such a delicate touch countered with a grand regality that has become the trademark of Icelandic bands -- articulating both the monumental and the minute, the mighty and the frail in single sweeping elegant gestures. Guess it goes without saying that we'd highly recommend this to fans of Mum and The Album Leaf (and probably Sigur Ros too)... and/or folks who like their music to seek out the heartstrings in a most shimmery fashion. Lovely!
The long awaited second installment in the who-knows-how-many-parts Patikel series, which features a collaboration between AQ fave Swedish dark ambient, militant folk, black metal noise technician Nordvargr (Toroidh, MZ412, Folkstorm, Goatvargr, HH9, etc...) and Japanese noise legend Masami Akita aka Merzbow.
Strange bedfellows maybe, but the results here, as on the first installment, are pretty mind-blowing. Akita generated the sounds, Nordvargr took those sounds and twisted them into completely new forms, the result some strange noise/drone/rhythm hybrid that is WAY more listenable than it has any right to be.
The opener sets the tone, a twenty minute crumbling distorted noisescape, like bits of old Merzbow records all chopped up and assembled again Frankenstein's monster fashion, that veers from full on near-metallic crunch, to strange skittery almost IDM, but even at it's calmest, the track is still rife with strange sounds and damaged FX, bursts of harsh noise surfacing here and there amidst an alien landscape of stutters and shuffles, of creaks and squeaks, almost like a black metal Mouse On Mars if one could even imagine such a thing.
The second track sounds heavier on the Nordvargr than the Merzbow, a rumbling shimmering low end, that creeps and drifts before splintering briefly into another rhythmic glitchscape, just as quickly transforming into a buzzing snarling fuzzed out drone, thick and corrosive, subtly rhythmic, but intense and crackling with energy. Deep cavernous tones swell in the background, while above the blurry buzz, strange crunchy electronic pulses mark out a simple static rhythm.
The third track is Part 2 to the opener's Part 1, and takes the openers skitter to a much meaner, much harsher place, a swirling high end cloud of hissing static and keening sine waves, over a relentlessly pulsing backdrop, that changes pitch, and tempo, stuttering and hiccuping, creating a gorgeously confusional rhythmscape, eventually breaking into a near-groove, a loping downtempo slither, but still wrapped in all manner of electronic detritus and squalls of fuzz and crackle and whir.
The closer winds things down with more of a whisper than a scream, the glitchy rhythms are still present, but they are ultra minimal, skeletal, almost like shortwave interference, beneath a tidal swirl of murk and blur, a dark ambient buzz that stretches lazily into long expanses of slow shifting sounds. Over the course of the track, little bits of melody surface here and there, the rhythms get more agitated before drifting back beneath the surface, and mysterious voices surface amidst sparkling sonic glimmers and moaning ambient rumble, a dreamy dark ambient coda to an intense slab of droning skittering buzz and crunch, shimmer and swirl.
Partikel II is IDM for the demon set, a blackened noise drenched skitter, an abstract metallic free-electronica, and a definite droney dancefloor filler, that is if you want your dancefloor filled with shuffling zombies, growling beasts and unspeakable denizens of the underworld...
And who doesn't?!
This long in the works split finally sees the light of day. Two aQ faves together on one super limited lp. MGR, the solo project of Mike Gallagher from the mighty Isis, and Xela, the project of John Twells, who also runs the kick ass Type label.
We've yet to get around to reviewing the new MGR full length, but this track is definitely whetting our appetite. Simple finger picked guitar over, shimmering streaks of sound, layers of glimmering gossamer whir, loping and laid back, eventually some BIG guitar comes in, huge crashing chords, allowed to ring out and slowly fade away, the notes pulsing and beating against each other, building to an epic coda, all majestic and intense, like a stripped down Isis, the original guitar slipping into the ether, the huge chords crashing further and further apart, eventually stopping all together, leaving murky blurs of guitar cacophony, smoothed into dense swells, still intense and almost heavy, but more blurred and washed out, the notes and chords and harmonics swirling in a roiling sonic sea.
The Xela track begins with a squall of feedback and squiggly distorted electronics, harsh and jagged, eventually drums surface, the electronics are reigned in a bit, angelic voices drift in, everything bathed in some ethereal shimmer, the drums stumble and skitter, cymbals crash and sizzle, the electronics flit and flutter like clouds of lightning bugs, the sound gradually grows heavier and more dense, a low end gathering beneath the surface, the sound is almost like some free noise Arvo Part, haunting and choral, but those electronics continue to squelch and glitch, the drums skittering chaotically, the vocals wreathed in effects that turn them into shadowy blurs, the track becoming blurrier by the minute, more tranquil, the vocals smeared into glistening chords, the whole track like the soundtrack to staring into a dying sun. Really amazing, and unlike anything we've heard from Xela before.
SUPER LIMITED! ONLY 350 COPIES!!! All hand screened with some seriously creepy cover art. We only got 30 copies, and will not be able to get more!
Another cd-r release from Heart and Crossbone, the label that brought us records from Israeli blackened spazz rock duo Barbara and one man thrash-grind band Cadaver Eyes (reviewed elsewhere on this list). This Mildew cd-r is a bit high concept. The idea is that you download a script and the piece will play at random pre-determined starting points, making the songs a bit different every time. Or something like that. Cool, huh? Musically this is a lot different that anything we've yet heard from Heart and Crossbone. All electronic, spastic programmed drums, squelching synths, occasional sampled metal guitars, jagged pounding industrial rhythms, moaning minor key melodies, brief spurts of drill and bass, some full on metal riffing sliced and diced, martial percussion, some blissed out dubbiness. Really cool. Definitely for fans of Aphex Twin, stuff on Planet Mu, or any of the more out there electronic stuff on the Jester label.
Antony Milton is one busy man, not only does he run the amazing PseudoArcana label, but he also makes tons of music as A.M., Mrtyu, in the Stumps, the Nether Dawn and more. Did we also mention he's a postman?
The End Of This Short Road is the latest from this underground dynamo, and is most definitely the most song oriented. We know full well Milton is capable of weaving gorgeous expanses of droney bliss, as well as monstrous slabs of downtuned brutality, but who knew he had such a deft hand at delicate songsmithery, but he does, and pretty much every track on The End Of This Short Road is a gem. Fear not, the weird lo-fi warbles and buzzy drone drenched whirs are still present and accounted for, but they tend to be beneath bits of jangle and croon, instead of on their own (although that does happen here and there).
The quieter pretty songs sound a bit like a more lo-fi Sparklehorse, with a little Alastair Galbraith mixed in and maybe with Roy Montgomery on guitar. Soft whispery vocals over delicate melodies, all filtered through that distinctly NZ filter. While the more rocking songs, are super psychedelic, with aggressive strumming, lost of reverb and delay, intense little squalls of minor key jangle and crunch, that manage to be both noisy and pretty, intense but strangely sad and wistful. Recommended for soft hearted noisies and noisy hearted folkies...
Probably the most well known of the groups contributing to this most recent collection of limited 7" singles from Germany's Drone Records. Gorgeously packaged, matte black ink on gloss black sleeves, pressed on black vinyl, black on grey cardstock insert, the first edition and thus limited to ONLY 300 COPIES!
Two short tracks, the first an ominous ambience of deep rumbles and hushed atmosphere, haunting minor key melodies stretched into blurred streaks of sound, after drifting through a little cloud of percussion at the beginning, only to emerge into a bleak expanse of slowly unfurling low end and soft black shimmer. The flipside picks up right where the A side ends, growing less and less ominous, becoming more and more dreamy and blissed out, the ominous black clouds slowly parting to reveal a sprawling expanse of steel grey winter sky. So nice!
Unfortunately we've somehow missed out on Moljebka Pvlse until now, although this Swedish dronescaping project has produced some exceptional work for Cold Meat Industies and Eibon. Tamon is a bit of a detour for Moljebka Pvlse which has typically offered somnolent, hypnotic sounds on par with Troum and Thomas Koner. Here, Moljebka Pvlse quite literally shatters the lulling atmospheres with two monstrous slabs of digitized noise surrounded by extended passages of eerie electric hummings. The juxtaposition of the calmer pools of sound and the infernal noise is purposefully jarring, as they simply butt up against each other. As good as Moljebka Pvlse has been at creating the sublime drone, he's equally proficient in noisemaking, on par with Merzbow's recent headcleansing output. Well worth checking this one out!
Everyone loves the '80s right? Well, no, but that doesn't mean that we can't take the good stuff that the '80s created and turn it around and make it better. That's what Monozid (from Leipzig, Germany) does time and time again on their debut full-length. There's a few post-punk bits, an early Sonic Youth noise-guitar element, and a lot of Three Imaginary Boys/Seventeen Seconds era Cure, but all of it topped with a 21st century sensibility. Monozid is not re-hashing old tricks worn out twenty years ago; they're using what came before to make great modern pop music. Some songs are instrumentals, the remaining are either sung in German or English. With song titles like "Du Bist Mein Mann, Sabrina" ("You are my man, Sabrina") we wish we could speak more than infant-German to understand just what they're singing about! Recommended.
Yet another brief, but engaging stop in our ongoing journey through the mysterious seas of sound, an expansive world gradually being charted and recorded by the fine folks at Mystery Sea. Constantly in search of "night-ocean drones", hungry to discover another bit of unheard beauty, a new drifting soundworld of ambient dronemusic, that had been heretofore unexplored.
Moth Electret is the strange monicker of the artist responsible for this latest disc in Mystery Sea's long running (going on nearly 40 releases!) series of deep tranquility and beautiful drift. The man responsible is Stig Berg (who has recorded as R|A|A|N in the past) and who for his Moth Electret project has fashioned his own undersea soundworld almost entirely from field recordings, captured in Barcelona, the isle of Sandoy and of all places, Eureka, California!
Unlike the rest of the Mystery Sea series, Moth Electret might just be the least minimal, with lots of stuff going on, this isn't murky or droney exactly, instead it's thick clouds of sound, jagged and sparkling, grinding and looped, muted and smeared into long stretches of soft-noise, still sort of underwater sounding, but a bit more abrasive, more industrial almost, if you could imagine the softer, gentler side of Wolf Eyes maybe, expansive soundscapes of glimmer and shimmer, lots of metallic tinkles and high end buzz, all drifting above static sheets of slow shifting sound, very tidal, but on the skree side of things, like Birchville or Sunroof! more than Chalk or Coleclough. Every track is layered and dense, repeated listens find the listener sinking deeper and deeper, discovering hidden melodies, and surprising little sonic events, even though it's noisier than the rest of the series, it's no less compelling, or listenable, in someways even moreso. So much more going on, and so much sound to explore. Another perfect soundtrack for late night dreamy drift or early evening daylight fade...
Like all Mystery Sea releases, LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each disc numbered, and gorgeously packaged in striking full color artwork, with a strange half sized booklet revealing the disc face within. So nice!
UK label Barl Fire has a darn near perfect record with kick ass releases from James Blackshaw, Rameses III, Robert Horton, Lamp Of The Universe, Floating World, United Bible Studies, The North Sea, Uton and more. Their focus seemingly on drone folk and free rock. Their last two releases however, this one, and the James Reid (reviewed elsewhere on this list) have begun to drift more toward straight ahead folk, or at least the sort of modern folk of New Weird America and similar minded hippies. Where as the James Reid channels the spirit of Nick Drake, the Nihil Project is more of a pagan ritual, a sort of Renaissance Wicker Man mystickal magickal folk. Sitars and zithers, tablas, harpischords, violins, along with more traditional acoustic guitars and flutes as well as some little more modern electronic flourishes. Crooning vocals, lilting melodies, occasionally dark and ominous, but just as often playful and festive. Definitely for fans of the Wicker Man, Pentangle, Incredible String Band, Fairport Convention, Forest, Comus, as well as the new breed of modern folk a la Devendra, Brightblack, Newsom and the like...
There are a handful of cd-r labels out there who are meticulous, not only with the music they choose to release, but with the packaging, the presentation, the ideas and inspiration behind the label, the theme that runs through all of the music, with everything related to their label and the music on it, which is always so inspiring, especially when everyone you know has a limited cd-r label. One of our favorites is Belgian label Mystery Sea, who specialize in what they call "night-ocean drones", and each disc is gorgeously packaged with full color artwork, that matches the artwork on the disc, and it all reflects the music contained within. We get as many copies as we can, but with almost every Mystery Sea releases we get, they tend to disappear quite quickly.
The latest comes from Ninth Desert, whose sound is anything but arid and dry, desolate and warm. Instead, the sounds on Zone are cold, cool, chilly, wintery, lots of glistening high end, the sounds you might imagine would emanate from vast ice fields, or deep snowy caves, not so much rumble and buzz as sparkle and glimmer and glisten. Even at it's most low-end dronelike, the whirs are wrapped in streaks of keening high end, everything is bright and blown out. It's like the sonic version of laying in a huge snow bank, staring at the sun, everything is white and bright, too much for your eyes to handle so everything sort of glazes into strange indistinct shapes, glowing and shifting, like clouds in the sky, or huge slow moving chunks of ice in the sea. These sounds are arctic, almost alien, like wandering on the surface of some strange planet, everything icy and barren, cold winds whir and whine, the sound of the slow moving glaciers a muted creaking, all smeared into dreamy swaths of high end shimmer. So lovely. And so refreshing to experience a soothing, slow moving drone record, that doesn't rely entirely on low end rumble, but at the same time manages to make upper register sounds as soothing and soft focus as their lower ended brethren.
Like all Mystery Sea releases, strictly LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each disc numbered on the tray card, and gorgeously packaged with striking full color artwork.
The amazing Drone Records label, run by Stefan Knappe of Maeror Tri / Troum, has been quietly releasing super limited, hand made slabs of gorgeous drone music for years now. Mostly 7", always vinyl (although there will soon be a 2cd collection of early out of print singles on Andee's tUMULt label), each disc an ultra personal exploration of the drone, sometimes soft and dreamlike, sometimes harsh and noisy, but always beautiful. Recently, Drone has launched a new series, 10"s this time, with a very complicated premise: "A concept that embraces the prospect of infinite possibilities for artists to create music about the intangible such as: the unnameable, the unspeakable, the unthinkable, the unidentifiable, etc. Various aspects related to "The Unknown". Sound artists and artwork designers were invited to work on the theme of the "grey matter" / the "dark continent" surrounding us & within us. Transforming this paradoxical idea into acoustic and visual objectifications." Phew. Pretty heady stuff. But these first three installments are up to the task, creating dark and disturbing and truly though provoking dronemusic. We can hardly weight for the rest of the series.
Third in this first batch of releases (along with Asia Nova and Daniel Menche) is the mysterious Belgian troop Noise-Makers Fifes. using homebuilt instruments and utilizing choreographed performances, NMF unleash, soft billowing clouds of glistening high end, minimal percussion, bird songs and outdoor ambience. Incorporating live recordings, the first side sounds like some mad sonic alchemist, performing all manner of mysterious and minimal sound rituals at the heart of the dark forest. Like a slightly more industrial Jewelled Antler. The B side is based on a series of field recordings of insects in Kenya and the result is a wide swath of ultra ambience, the sort of quiet music that truly requires deep listening. Occasionally sounds collide, and some bizarre reaction takes place causing the tranquility to buckle, a jagged upheaval os stuttering lurching glitchery, before drifting off again into near nothingness.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Pressed on cloudy clear swirled vinyl.
Nonhorse is the work of one Gabriel Lucas Crane who spends his day job rocking in the group Wooden Wand & The Vanishing Voice, but when he's on his own, it's a whole 'nother sonic ball of wax. Ot maybe ball of old busted cassettes would be more like it.
Each track, always clocking in at either 3:12, 3:13. or 3:14, is a dense assemblage of random sonic detritus, fuzzy indistinct song fragments, manipulated tape drop outs, ringing phones, sound effects, huge swaths of buzzing distortion, looped bits of detuned guitar, slabs of damaged percussion, the sounds of tapes rewinding and fast forwarding, abstract guitar shimmer looped and slowed down, snippets of classical music, crackle and static, everything murky and indistinct, blurry and smeared into strange cross-eyed soundscapes. It's a bit like John Oswald for the ADD set, but when the mania subsides just a little, and sounds are allowed to shimmer and fade, the sound becomes remarkably beautiful, like Dialing In, all blown out and gorgeously crumbling to bits before our ears, or like a more corrosive lo-fi version of our favorite soundscapers, Jasper TX, Tim Hecker, Machinefabriek, Philip Jeck, the same sort of milk eyed warble and disembodied drift, but assembled from a pile of junkyard tapes. A seriously drug addled mashup of light and dark, pretty and ugly, noisy and serene, and somehow it works. In a big way. Completely dizzying and confusional, warped and warbly, but in it's own ugly duckling manner quite pretty. If all that blissed out fuzzscape crap is a little too mellow for you, but you still want to be dragged off to some other world, Nonhorse might be the little red pill you've been waiting for.
Mastered by the Yellow Swans' Pete Swanson.
Some of our favorite records over the last few years have come from our customers. As in, recorded and released by, not just recommended by. I mean, it makes perfect sense, that folks into cool weird music, would be making cool weird music themselves, but nevertheless it's always a nice surprise. Whether it's the delicate dreamy folk of Ilyas Ahmed, or the crushing doom of Monument of Urns, it's always exciting to discover that the guy who buys all the weird cd-r's, or the customer who is always ordering super limited vinyl is in fact, making some strange and wondrous sounds themselves.
Such is the case with our Italian mailorder customer Francesco Paladino, who has teamed up with Opum (Paladino seems to prefer the collaboration, having joined forces with lots of folks in the past including dronesters Alio Die) for a record of epic and hauntingly cinematic low end explorations. Field recordings are deftly woven into huge sprawling drones, strangled falsetto vocals and growling grumbled voices drift ominously amidst the slowly swirling low end ambience. Chimes tinkle and random bits of percussion float restlessly above thick fuzzy synthesizers, all the while more and more strange animalistic vocalisations enter the mix. Birdsong and simple percussion are the framework of one track, while a pulsing synthesized throb another, FX swirl effortlessly over the sound of scraping stones, whispering wind, distant chanting. The vibe is strangely liturgical, one can imagine this disc as the soundtrack to some slow moving Italian giallo, Goblin handling the freaked out progged up horror parts, while Paladino and Opum handle the suspense, the dark shadowy corridors, a long walk through a moonlit park, the foreboding feeling that death lurks around every corner. Creepy and sinister and ominously beautiful.
Not sure what we were expecting... With a name like Panda Porn, and the fact that we got these from Heart & Crossbone, who usually supply us with super intense heavy noisy Israeli weirdness... But whatever we were expecting it sure wasn't this.
Five tracks, all very minimal and abstract, mostly glitch and buzz, and hiss and crackle. Much of it sounding like a needle in the run out groove of an lp, and you know how much we love that sound. A fuzzy chunk of muted glitchy static, beneath which strange streaks of low end throb and pulse, barely audible, deep resonant rumbles hum and whir peppered with rhythms crafted from cracks and pops, distant bell-like chimes, glistening high end tones and what sounds like strings glitched and chopped and skipping into stuttery rhythms, a collage of super damaged outsider turntablism. Lots of this sounds like a lo-fi Ryoji Ikeda, while the prettier bits remind us of Phillip Jeck. Really cool, but be warned, it's quite brief, less than 14 minutes, but we do find ourselves listening to it over and over, especially the last track, a jumbled stuttery minor key soundscape made from chopped up voices and hiccuping smears of strings.
The Rarities referred to in the title number 1 to 30. Rarities 1-5 are the five tracks of minimal glitch and buzz, while Rarities 6-30 are images, housed in a gorgeous, mini perfect-bound book. Stark textures, grayscale images, high contrast, simple yet super striking.
The cd is housed in a heavy book-sized cardstock sleeve, also included is a thick card with liner notes and images, the cd sleeve, the book and the card all housed in a printed slip cover, hand numbered on the back.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!
It had to happen. It probably already has happened actually, but we love the weird, and the random, and we figured you probably would too. This is a Japanese import, not sure exactly who the artist is, but it's 99 tracks, each a rich lustrous tone, some deep and bell like, some soft and sonorous, some high pitched like a sine wave. All you have to do is set your cd player on random and away we go. A soft, subtle ambient journey, that ends up sounding a bit like Morton Feldman's Rothko Chapel, only a bit though. It also sort of sounds like Tibetan bowls, or chiming bells, or soft ambient Japanese music (which I guess it is). Soft and lovely, and most importantly RANDOM. 99 seperate tones means the number of possible songs is an astronomical 9.33262154 x 10 to the 155th! And that's if you only let each tone play once... So even though the disc is actually only about 8 minutes long, set to shuffle it turns into 8 million billion trillion minutes! Or more!
Anyway, this seems to work best if you import the disc to iTunes, set to shuffle and with a decent crossfade, then just sit back and drift off, let the gorgeously soft and shimmery, sweet and serene ambience wash over you.
The last time we reviewed a Ben Reynolds disc was way back in 2005, and even then we were sort of lamenting our inability to keep up with the constant deluge of amazing cd-r's and the proliferation of cd-r microlabels. We're still trying, but it's fighting a losing battle.
And with Reynolds, we've fallen even further behind, this being only the second release we've managed to review out of the probably twenty or so we've missed, but what the hell, let's make the most of it. Thankfully this is a real cd-r not a cd-r, which is a god thing as this is way too good to only be heard by a handful of folks.
Reynolds weaves a magical lower case world of buzzing synths, strange percolating rhythms, disembodied psychedelic guitars, simple folky strum, and dense sheets of processed drone and whir. Occupying a sonic space somewhere between the freaky forest folkies and the spaced out drone-y drifters, Reynolds wanders freely back and forth often pausing with one foot in each, wrapping sweet little bundles of buzzing steel strings in tripped out sci-fi buzz and bleep, while conversely taking washed out smears of outerspace ambience and spreading them out beneath melancholy acoustic guitar melodies. Fans of all thing Celebrate Psi Phenomenon, PseudoArcana, Digitalis, Last Visible Dog and the like will absolutely want to get a hold of this....
We always assumed that Denmark's Sarah's Charity must include Matthew Bower of Skullflower, or Marcia Bassett of Hototogisu, or at least someone from Heavy Winged or Double Leopards or one of those sorts of bands. They have the same sort of slow burning heaviness going on, the washed out walls of psychedelic swirl, grinding guitars, keening streaks of high end. Another one of 'those sounds' we can't ever seem to get enough of.
Ends up SC are indeed from Denmark, and do not count any American or British noise rock ringers among their members, which is just as well, as these guys can totally hold their own, and then some, whipping up a seriously dense and deliriously blown out soundscape of buzz and blur and shimmer and rrrroooaaaaar. The other cd-r we had from SC was equally guitar heavy, but here, the sound seems significantly murkier and more muted, softer even (softer being relative of course), giving it a more dreamy drone-y sound which is no bad thing at all. But fear not, this is still fierce and prickly and caustic and HEAVY, just sort of pretty too.
We only have a handful of these, it was LIMITED TO 150 COPIES (each with a hand numbered insert), and they've been waiting for a while to get reviewed and listed, so pretty sure these are long gone and out of print at the source, but while they last, we got em here...
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One of three new 3" cd-r releases on the Grey Daturas' Diagnosis ... Don't! label, each super limited, and housed in cool hand made packaging.
Of all the noisemakers from New Zealand and Australia, Seht, aka Stephen Clover, is by far the dreamiest and droniest and -least- noisy. Which might be why he holds such a special place in our hearts. And ears. Every Seht disc is a gloriously blissed out tranquil exploration of some deep dark ambient wonderland. There's nothing harsh or heavy, caustic or corrosive, instead, listening to Seht is like drifting through space, or floating a hundred feet below the surface of some clear blue sea. Everything shimmers and sparkles, flows and swirls, the sounds are soft and delicate, distant and dreamy, ethereal and indistinct. Soft focus and beautifully blurry. And this little three inch is no different. Gorgeous and serene. This disc definitely feels like a dark drift along the ocean floor, due to the haunting sonar-like pulse that permeates the whole track, it's not at all distracting though, just the contrary, very hypnotic and soothing, an organic, super minimal pulse, a barely there framework for the slow shifting liquid drones.
AS ALWAYS, ULTRA SUPER LIMITED!! We only got about 30, and probably won't be able to get more...
Packaged in thick textured paper black mini 3" sleeves, with a printed (band name, label info, liner notes) Japanese style obi. Nice.
The return of The Shitty Listener! Maybe one of our all time favorite band names EVER. And it's about time. We all completely dug the Girls All Say EP we listed a while back, but it just wasn't enough. It was only 9 minutes long after all. Well, Fruitless Accomplishment clocks in at a whopping 26 minutes, and thus manages to take all the elements we liked on the EP, and spreads them out, expands and explores, which just means there's so much more to like.
Actually released as a book, that just so happens to also contain a cd, for our purposes, we'll just go ahead and consider Fruitless Accomplishment a cd, that just so happens to come with a book! For those new to the Shitty Listener, it's not really a band, instead it is one man, Jason Honea, from from the Jewelled Antler outfits The Child Readers and the Franciscan Hobbies, as well as the Chord Fort, the Knit Separates and Teenage Panzercorps. The Shitty Listener is his Honea's mostly solo, lo-fi, bedroom folk project. And is deeply connected to his poetry/lyrics and artwork. As is evidence by this deluxe book/cd combo.
The sound is incredibly intimate and low fidelity. Mostly recorded on micro cassettes or handheld tape recorders, Honea incorporates tape hiss and whatever ambient sound happens to occur in the background, whether it's a plane flying by, a dog barking, the sound of crickets, it all just becomes part of the sound. And just like old Sebadoh tapes, the ch-chunk sound of the record or stop buttons being pushed, as well as weird warbles in the tape, become as much a part of the song as the song itself. Lilting melancholy piano, gentle acoustic guitar strum, and not much else support Honea's warbly falsetto, plaintive and emotive, always way down in the mix, a sort of drifty fuzzy dreamy melody within each song. But that's more than enough. Each song ends up sounding surprisingly lush. Our favorites though have to be the ones that sound like they were recorded from a distance, or through the wall or window. Those tracks almost sound like Honea was singing and strumming indoors, while the mic was outside, capturing most of the music, but more than anything all of the ambient action happening around it. Other highlights include the a capella "Bad Wonder", "I Call You Up" which sounds a bit like Morrisey fronting Sentridoh, the minute long "Across My Dreams", a sort of processed dreamy guitarscape, and the 7 minute medley "Sweet To My Mind w/ Someone Flame-Like & Up Too Much", the first half of which sounds a bit like a Basinski composition, but made manually, by playing a figure on the piano, pushing stop on the tape player, pressing record and playing the figure again, over and over and over. So weird and wonderful.
Fruitless Accomplishment is a strangely compelling collision between abstract experimentation and lo-fi pop loveliness, and the results are truly divine!
The packaging is pretty dang divine as well. And just to frustrate and confuse, there are TWO different versions. Both are exactly the same on the inside, just different on the outside. Packaged in either a newsprint covered hard cardboard box, or in a sewn green felt sleeve, inside is the cd-r, an insert with the liner notes, four full color and two black and white inserts featuring various drawings and collages by Honea, and Real Flowers, a small book of poetry, gorgeously printed on nice paper and with a full color paste on cover!
A few lists back, we got a great response to a disc we listed by Sicilian drone duo Comet III, their debut album Astral Voyager, a totally "kosmiche" trip in ye olde krautrock vein. One half of Comet III, their "space guitarist", has a new cd-r out recorded under the name Siddhi, released by the Italian micro-label Akoustic Desease, and we of course grabbed some asap (they're limited to just 115 numbered copies). So we have a few to share with you and then that's probably it!
Space guitarist indeed. This is way spacey, yet with a folky vibe. 5 songs, 45 psychedelic minutes. Drifting electronic drones, quiet and lovely. Rustling percussive rattle. Repetitive guitar ornament. Slow and stately. Mellow melancholic bliss. Forgive us the sentence fragments, it's just that we're trancing out within Siddhi's cosmic, elemental embrace...
As we said, super limited. Packaged in colorful, stiff cardboard sleeves.
It's been a while since we've heard anything from the Fflint camp, our favorite source for brilliant, damaged outsider avant electronic weirdness. But this week we've got not one, but two missives from the mysterious world of Fflint Central. And while Terminal Machine is not technically -ON- Fflint, Pendro does just happen to be half of the mighty Fflint duo soit most definitely count. Here he's teamed up with Japanese writer / musician / sound artist Kenji Siratori, who we heard from recently on the mind blowing Hypergenome666 4cd set with Nordvargr and Beyond Sensory Experience.
And like on Hypergenome666, Siratori is a man of words, literally. His texts are dense and bizarre, strange and so fascinating. For Terminal Machine, Siratori sent recordings of himself reading some of his works and gave Pendro the go ahead to transform those words into abstract sound.
The opening track features Siratori's voice gradually twisted into strange shapes as more and more effects are added, becoming more brittle and metallic, until the words almost sound like the plucking and scraping of steel strings. Later, the words are chopped and reshaped into some lurching post-Autechre IDM skitter, a smear of distorted melody and chittering rhythm, elsewhere the text becomes some droning sci-fi soundscape of processed vocals and FX drenched drones, another track finds the vocals obliterated, the only traces left a skittering, squelchy, splattery soundscape of Fflinty buzz and crumble. The final track is a dark, drifting dronescape, distant metallic buzz, bursts of microscopic grit, bits of high end glimmer and little upper register trills, all drenched in a thick patina of murk and mumble. The human voice twisted and tangled up into some seriously inhuman sounds. Pretty amazing stuff.
Packaged in a slimline case with some seriously disturbing 'meat-y' artwork...
The Sonic Catering Band were a fairly recent discovery for us, even though they've been around for several years now, and they seemed a perfect match for our strange tastes here at Aquarius. A large ensemble, that physically, prepare, cook and consume meals, while the sounds of cutlery, cookware, conversation, cooking, and eating are all captured, recorded, tweaked and presented as their own strange sonic architecture. Their last double cd, a collection of live recordings, was a dreamy and drone-y collage of rumbles and whirs and purrs and hums. One of the best drone records we'd heard in a while. The new record takes an entirely different sonic path at least for the first half of the record, with the drones pushed to the background, supporting an abstract assemblage of percussive clatter, dynamic and dense. The website claims definitively and defiantly that there are no beats, however, there are abstract rhythms and almost-structures, that surface from the kitcheny chaos. The two final tracks though will have drone-freaks drooling. Two lengthy static explorations, into the deep, dark, rumbling depths of dronology, with throbbing pulses stretched into warm sheets of sound, hiss and whir spread out over everything like a thick layer of peanut butter, and a humming, reverberating thrum dripped over both tracks like sonic molasses. As an added bonus, the website explains that with the addition of several new members, and those members particular dietary requirements, the Sonic Catering Band are no longer a vegetarian entity. Thankfully, vegetarians can still enjoy the results, relatively guilt free.
We are huge fans of weird turntable music, from Jeck, to Gum, to Otomo Yoshihide, to Martin Tetrault, but as much as we love all of those folks, our heart belongs to Strotter Inst., aka, Christoph Hess, an older Swiss turntable mad scientist, who creates Frankensteinian record players with multiple arms, weird obstructions forcing the needle to jump and skip, strange strings and rubber bands, that the moving parts pluck and strike, all creating gorgeous mechanical symphonies of sound, with JUST the player, when the manipulated records are added (and they often are NOT), things only get more expansive and lush and amazing.
This latest release from Hess finds his interest in fucking with lps and their players extending to even the pressing process, with the various tracks mastered at different speeds, requiring a small diagram on the label demonstrating which part of which side plays at which speed. Not that it necessarily matters, as Hess' crazy sonic concoctions sound great at any speed.
The sounds here follow on from those on the many other records of his we've reviewed, like some sort of minimal DIY krautrock, or a band like Avarus, populated exclusively by homebuilt noise making robots, all assembled from turntables, it is unbelievable to hear these sounds and know they were designed and planned by Hess, but it's the machines that are creating these gorgeous hypnotic rhythmscapes.
Hypnotic, repetitive, cyclical, but always shifting subtly, crackle, scrape, rumble, hiss, skip, all deftly arranged into propulsive grooves, the rubber bands offering up melody, strange rubbery tones, percussive, but definitely melodic, while the turntable itself, when not striking or plucking the bands, unleashes strange grinding rhythms, peppered with percussive scapes, haunting textural whirs, the rhythms almost tribal, often skeletal and sparse, but just as often dense and layered, when the records are included in the sound making, the various manipulated grooves, spit out even more strange clicks and moans and bleeps and even some strangely appropriate counter rhythms.
Absolutely fantastic stuff, we would imagine as amazing to see as to hear, lucky for us, there's a good chance, Hess will be in the US soon, and will hopefully be visiting aQ for a demonstration / performance.
One of three new 3" cd-r releases on the Grey Daturas' Diagnosis ... Don't! label, each super limited, and housed in cool hand made packaging.
Pretty much impossible to imagine a more star studded NZ free rock band than this. Sure Mr. Kneale's absent, as are a Russell and a Morely, but shit this trio is already bursting at the seams and ready to blow. The Stumps, the trio of which we happen to be speaking, is made up of equal parts
Antony Milton (AM, Mrtyu, Nether Dawn, etc.), James Kirk (Sandoz Lab Technicians, Gate, With Throats As Fine As Needles) and Stephen Clover (Seht). Holy shit is right (that is what you were thinking, right?)! Three tracks, nineteen minutes. Total transcendental free noise drone rock bliss!!
The opening track is nine minutes of deeeeeeeep dreamy drone. Distant melodies smeared into fuzzy clouds, occasional bursts of distorted guitar muted and stretched apart into shimmery drones, a final build into a thick wall of white noise whir, high end peals and crumbling feedback. The second track is a full on rock jam, a stumbling Dead C like groove, lurching through a dense swirl of fuzzy synths, grinding guitars and squealing feedback. A killer slab of off kilter, drone drenched psych rock. The final track falls somewhere between the first two, droney and abstract, but with fuzzy bass, and jagged streaks of psychguitar, thick swirls of cymbal sizzle, and distant squalls of guitar freakout. Awesome.
AS ALWAYS, ULTRA SUPER LIMITED!! We only got about 30, and probably won't be able to get more...
Packaged in thick textured paper black mini 3" sleeves, with a printed (band name, label info, liner notes) Japanese style obi. Nice.
Holy crap those suicidal black metallers have nothing on Stunt Rock. At least in terms of pure self loathing misery. They talk a good game, and the music is appropriately miserable and melancholy, but their depression is so abstract, so much so that in some cases, it sounds as much like a gimmick as 'Satanism'. But this is indeed depression. Misery. REGRET. Past Stunt Rock releases didn't really give any idea that all this lurked below the surface, but this release more than hints at it, it takes his Stunt Rock heart, and pins it open, like a high school dissected frog, letting us poke and prod, and examine all the blackness inside.
It's also pretty funny too, if you think folks like Ivan Brunetti are hilarious, which we do. In fact, this is totally the record we could imagine Brunetti releasing. And it is in fact a sort of instruction manual, covering such topics as to how to choose a new mate, and to avoid the mistakes you made in past relationships. A page of little tags to place on your belongings for after you die when people dig through your stuff (for your pornography stash, for your box of old love letters, etc.), a very Brunetti like comic detailing a botched suicide attempt among other things.
The Prescreening A Potential Love Interest multiple choice form is amazing, it goes on for pages and pages, and is so gloriously black hearted. The there's the Learning To Forget & Adjusting To Living Alone section, also pages and pages, teaching you to do just as the title says, try different routes to work, repaint, get a new social circle, new wardrobe, but it's super well written, wry and bitter, fucking brutal here and there. There's also an activity section, with a form to write down all the songs you want played at your funeral (the first is filled out for you, Creed's "My Own Prison" haha), as well as a sort of last will style form, with spaces for things you want to leave for folks, as well as spaces for the people you want to make sure DON'T get anything (and the specific things you want to make sure they don't get. There's also an amazing section called Upsetting Things You Wrote When You Were Young. Poems, letters, lists of people who wronged you. But they're all blacked out CIA document style, leaving just the caustic comments by the author. All of this is gorgeously hand drawn and printed in a 10" book housed in a super nice cardstock screen printed hand numbered cover, each one hand numbered, the front a three color illustration of a blood splattered sink.
And there's a record. a 2 song 10", two parts of the same piece, titled somewhat cryptically "Dear Christian Girl (Parts One And Two)", a DJ Shadow style indie rock soundscape, lots of amazing (and amazingly depressing) samples, funny, fucked up, sad, melancholy, the song simple and hooky, but stretched out into a more electronic sort of groove, with thick buzzing synths wrapped around the Slint-y guitars, loping rock drumming, subtle hooks, no proper vocals, instead, the tale of the mysterious Christian Girl and Stunt Rock's saga of regret is told in a continuous mix of voices and sounds, of vignettes and fragments, in shuffling beats and melancholy melodies. Pretty great. And the perfect companion for the book. And as if that weren't enough, you also get a cd-r, with the same music as on the 10". All told, you get a 10" vinyl record, a 32 page book with hand silk screened covers, 3 Stickers, 1 Button, a cd-r and 1 of 4 different hand silk screened posters.
And we know all those forms are jokes, but we're really tempted to fill them out. Fun and funny, but only if you're a twisted bitter old crank, like us!
**SALE **SALE* *SALE**
"Featuring former SPK/Lustmord member Annie Subbs on vocals/percussion and Joke Lanz of Catholic Boys in Heavy Leather and Schimpfluch-Gruppe fame on 'noise toys', London duo Sudden Infant begin their industrialised invocation with a soothing, wave crashing, meditation instruction tape that sounds eerily like the voice of Margaret Thatcher before a barrage of broken glass, pump action shot gun blasting and ugly machinery shreds the illusion. 'Noise Relaxation' sets the mood for the rest of the album, a fearsome yet playful crashing together of mechanical noise with slivers of Suicide, tremors of early Current 93 and even a nod to Pierre Henry imbedded into it. These are then occasionally invaded by distorted cover versions of Cabaret Voltaire and Roxy Music tunes, or overlaid wit unsettling Phil Minton-like throat warblings and regurgitations. A strange beast indeed, all topped of with cover art that samples an unaccredited arcane drawing from magician, poet and mountaineer Aleister Crowley's Satanic sketchbook." For a comical, vomit splattered reinterpretation of Wolf Eyes, look no further!
