We have a friend who has become so obsessed with the work of Nadja and its mainman Aidan Baker, that he spends way more time than is healthy trolling the internet looking of long lost 7"s and rare out of print cd-r's. It's easy to see why though. Baker's sonic explorations are as mesmerizing as they are ominous. A truly unique musical voice in a suddenly way too crowded microniche. Call it doom. Or drone. Or dirge. Or better yet deathdoomdronedirge. It's a sound we can't get enough of, the logical extension of our obsession with the drone. And while we still love to drift off to the soft shimmer of a distant rumble, when you imbue a drone with more power, and more volume, and more wattage it becomes something new, a fearsome sonic beast, whether it's a subtly snarling growl of grit and grime, or a massive undulating wave of black hole fury, a drone possessed of power becomes a glorious thing to behold. And no one has as deft a hand with the drone than Baker, And Nadja is the ultimate drone via rock band. Beyond the ultra minimalism of Sunn 0))), way prettier than the filthy dirges of Moss or Monarch, Nadja are almost like some indie slowcore band but lit from within by some otherworldy source. Every track is suffused with a warm rich glow that is almost blinding, but at the same time warm and inviting. It's heavy, sure, but it's more just plain beautiful. Like staring into the sun until your eyes start playing tricks on you. Imagine listening to a sound so loud, so bright, that the synapses in your brain misfire, and your ear scrambles to make sense of this sound, and in doing so, forges all kinds of unlikely connections, subtle melodic threads, paints a lush sonic portrait. Now imagine a music that was played to already sound like that, before it even got to you. Just imagine what your mind and your ears would do with a sound like that. Some sort of unreachable aural nirvana suddenly within reach. That's the music of Nadja. It's like watching a sunset slowed down so each subtle shimmer stretches out forever, each ray of sunlight is tangled up with another, writhing in sparkling glistening knots, slowly unraveling, stretching, into endless streaks of gorgeous muted color. Imagine Jesu, but dosed to the gills on Prozac, a shiny happy Godfleshian dirge, or a My Bloody Valentine riff looped and repeated forever, underpinned by some Can drum loop at 16 rpm, or a Teenage Filmstars 45 played at 33. This is epic ultradoom metal, but with the metal replaced by soft billowy clouds of fuzzy distortion, the howling fury twisted into dreamlike tranquility, the blasting beats pulled apart and sprinkled here and there like percussive raindrops. This is as soft and pretty as a dirge-y drone can get while still retaining its inherent doomic mass. Utter and absolute loveliness drenched in a thick patina of crushing heaviness. Impossible but perfect.
Got one final batch of these direct from the label, last copies we'll ever see, so one final chance to grab one of these, featuring some early recorded weirdness from Mr. John Dwyer, aka OCS, aka Thee Oh Sees, long before Thee Oh Sees became a proper band, when it was just Dwyer and his four track. Originally released as a super limited 6" vinyl / 3" cd set, first in a run of 51 copies, then a couple years later in a run of 52 copies, and now finally, this is available again in a slightly more copious pressing, now a double 7", one black vinyl, one a sort of watery cola colored vinyl, housed in a screen printed cardboard box with some really sweet original Dwyer artwork, and including a printed insert, each one hand numbered (420 copies total!).
And for those familiar with the Oh Sees, and more specifically, the older stuff (specifically, the rad double cd on tUMULt), the stuff here hews way closer to that all over the map, ramshackle, home recorded sound, this isn't sweaty sixties style garage pop, nope this is a dizzying collection of eclectic home brewed sounds, from soft abstract folk, to dreamy drones, to squalls of noisy weirdness, to twisted deconstructed pop, to drugged out experimental freakouts, all fractured damaged and wonderful and so so so good.
It's been so nice to see Papercuts really mature over the years. There was no doubt at their beginning that they had the ability to craft melt worthy indie rock, but as the years have passed their sound has only gotten more warm, layered and potent. As Papercuts now join their buddy and former label head, Andy Cabic (Vetiver) as the newest recruits for Sub Pop, it feels like just the perfect time for this shift to a higher profile. No doubt these two swoon worthy songs will get compared to Grizzly Bear and Beach House, but what makes us excited about Papercuts these days is that it really is starting to feel like they are discovering how to put their own unique stamp on such a satisfying sound. Can't wait for the Sub Pop full-length about to drop!
Years and years and years ago, we first heard this band called Laddio Bolocko, who pretty much instantly became one of our favorite bands ever, and whose records became one of those aQ staples, a record we tried to always carry, and would always recommend to folks, because those guys KILLED.
Totally epic, heavy, super intricate, droned out hyper distorted, in-the-red post This Heat sort of math rock psychedelia. We described them way back as "A modern day This Heat, but with bigger amps, more lo-fi production, free-jazz scud missile saxophone, unlikely melodies, relentless rhythms, ear-ringing dynamics and a sound unlike anything you've ever heard." Sounds pretty incredible, and it was. The band called it quits, and we were heartbroken, until 2/3 of the late great LB resurfaced as a band called Psychic Paramount, who essentially ditched the sax, and cranked up EVERYTHING else. A lean and mean power trio, guitar, bass and drums, but the sound these guys conjure up sound like three times that, each track is an explosive hyper rhythmic blowout, the slips deftly from mesmerizing motorik churn, to white noise soaked freakout and back again. The opening track here doesn't bother to ease you in, instead they hurl you kicking and screaming into a chaotic swirl of loose and wild free jazz drum splatter, soaring clouds of chiming guitars, lots of low end buzz and high end skree, but then after a minute the band settle into a riff, and then BAM, they're off, a churning, chugging, mathed out, soaring hypnotic psych kraut math rock blowout, like This Heat meets Don Caballero meets Faust meets Fushitsusha, the guitars epic and so heavy, the drums somehow bashing their way through the din, like a WAY less restrained Circle, just total dronerock epicness, and then the band switch gears once again, the guitars muted, the bass sinewy, the drums so solid, a chugging noisy krautrock workout, that builds again to another even more frenzied climax, before slipping into a super intense, almost robotic groove, the drums holding down a simple rhythm, over a thick droning buzz and muted rhythmic guitar chitter, and what sounds like weird processed wheezing chords, the song gradually seeming to get more and more warped and off kilter, until it just stops, leaving a hazy contrail of layered high end harmonies...
And then it's right back into it, a bit of hushed crystalline shimmer sprawls beneath some spidery guitars and some shuffled almost jazzy sounding drums, pretty blissy and krauty for a couple minutes before a weird super distorted drum fill and then the song explodes into an impossibly blown out metallic churn, before slipping right back into that shimmery kraut groove, and so it goes, the track lurching from blissy to brutal and back again.
The rest of the record follows suit. Less about songs, and melody, more about texture, and tempo, timbre and arrangement, these are physical songs, anyone whose seen these guys play, can attest to the fact that this is about as intense as rock music gets, people gather around the band wide eyed and slackjawed as they create this very same sound live.
The record never lets up, it's almost like Mick Barr if he was raised on nineties math rock and seventies krautrock, the songs white hot blasts of intricately arranged avant math rock mesmer, even when the band seems to be doing something simple, close listening reveals, the tempos are definitely off kilter, the rhythms deceivingly intricate, and the guitar is doing the work of an army of guitars, the bass driving the songs but also adding all sorts of texture, these guys really are pretty much the only real successors to the legacy of This Heat, but they've boiled that sound into something more focused and singular, a blown out, heady psychedelia, a modern krautrock that manages to forge its own super unique, idiosyncratic path through a world of same sounds, creating a fantastically exhausting, totally exhilaratingly punishing, noise rock / math rock / post rock / krautrock hybrid, that literally sounds like nobody else.
So cool to see Los Angeles duo Rainbow Arabia get a release on an awesome internationally respected label, and also cool that Kompakt seems to be really branching out and releasing an album that takes a serious sonic shift into a new direction for the label. We were immediately smitten with Rainbow Arabia from when we heard their first self released album and ep a few years back. Sadly, we were never able to get them into the store, but we were quite confident they would become a band that lots of people would be hearing about soon enough.
Their first bigtime release, Boys & Diamonds, does a great job of demonstrating how RA borrow from electronica, Bollywood, Congotronics, and so much more into a totally dizzying and seductive sound that is pretty much impossible not to get swept away by. This time out there's a bit more of a moody vibe to their sound which has us imagining Fever Ray remixed by Santo Gold or M.I.A. And the M.I.A. influence is definitely noticeable on much of Rainbow Arabia's output, but on Boys And Diamonds, they've really done an exceptional job of incorporating that influence into a heavy and dreamy blend of sounds and styles. So colorful and catchy, we're going to be blasting this one for months to come! Lp comes with cd of album as well.
What awesomeness has EM for us this time? The Japanese reissue label rarely lets us down, digging up only the most interesting and unusual gems from long ago and far away. Recently they've brought us the "modernized" Thai music of Son Of P.M., and the spiritual bamboo flute playing of T.R. Mahalingam. Like the latter, this release is also from India, and furthermore ostensibly in the Carnatic (Southern Indian classical music) tradition, as per its truly fabulous title... but liberally mixed with Western jazz! Pretty neat, since we've heard plenty of albums doing the "jazz raga" or "Indo-jazz" thing (Don Ellis, Alice Coltrane, Joe Harriott/John Mayer, Gabor Szabo, etc.) but those are all by Western musicians looking to the East for inspiration, not the other way around. Whereas what we have here is a bit different in origin.
This album, from 1969, is an utterly gorgeous set of exotic, melodic Indo-jazz fusion masterminded by one T. K. Ramamoorthy, a prolific film composer and director. According to EM, it's the first recorded instance where serious Indian musicians delved into jazz territory, juxtaposing traditional Indian instruments and musical structures with those from jazz tradition too. Improvisation being a significant element of both styles, it was doubtless an interesting and exciting session for these musicians. It certainly is for the listener.
There's ten tracks here, and listening it's fascinating how it seems to subtly shift from the Indian and "exotic" to more familiar feeling jazz sounds, depending on what you listen for. The drummer lets loose on the traps one moment, while the zing of the strings of a sitar is heard at another, and it all works together so pleasingly, for fans of both Bollywood and Brubeck. Quite wonderful!
Two tapes, two hours, eleven tracks, a sprawling exploration of blackened sonic inner space from this masterful dronescaper, a collection of epic longform droned out drifts, gorgeous abstract fields of hushed grim ambience, the usual rumble and whir and buzz laced with what sound like horns: trumpets, trombone, who knows exactly what, but they lend a mournful, melancholy vibe to the already dark and dismally dreamlike proceedings. As does the tinkle of keyboards, barely there, the melodies ghostlike, field recordings drift in and out as well, the sound of children, or are those birds? Hard to say, as they are deftly woven into the undulating tapestry of mysterious minimal blackness. Those horns the only melody, dragging the rest of the black ambience along, a gorgeously depressive bit of funereal otherworldliness.
The sound shifts from aching abstract skeletal slowcore doomdrift, to brooding rumbling black ambience, to hushed barely there shimmer, the sounds swirling and shifting, sometimes muted and muddy, other times pulsing and throbbing, a very Tim Hecker vibe to much of this, everything faded and washed out, like some strange steampunky contraption that lets us view some alternative dystopian future, and this is the sound, the soundtrack to a land barren and bereft of life, of a planet purging and beginning again, the sound of living things withering and dying, of flesh melting from bones, of the sun dimming and the landscape turning gray with shadow and ash, a hazy, gauzy dreamlike drift into the unknowable, into the other, into nothingness. So dark and strange, murky and mysterious, weirdly and impossibly lovely...
Fantastic packaging, the two cassettes housed in a double wide tape case, with a silver on black silkscreened card stock insert, the whole thing sealed with a similarly silver and black silkscreened Japanese style obi.
LIMITED TO 70 COPIES!!! WE HAVE LESS THAN A DOZEN!!
For years now we've been singing the praises of these weirdo Czech black metallers, fronted by the enigmatic Big Boss, a big guy with some crazy evil panda face make up and a super unique bellow. Their sound, at least in the beginning, raw and grim like classic Hellhammer and Celtic Frost, but often slowed down, more midtempo, lumbering and lurching, sometimes blasting chaotically, but more often than not, fantastically plodding, the guitars super raw, the sound lo-fi, but perfectly suited to Root occultic and cult-y sounding metal, and the truly strange vocals of Big Boss just sealing the deal, from froglike croak, to demonic croak, to raspy croon, to multitracked, almost Butthole Surfers sounding alien drawl, there's just something so mysterious and magical about these guys. Easily one of our all time favorites.
Revelation, originally recorded in 1990, is a re-recording of their Zjevni debut, with all the lyrics redone in English. And while it's been 20+ years, The Revelation still sounds just as good, and haunting, and heavy as ever. Sure it's black metal, but this is more old school classic metal, with black elements. It's more witchy and doomy and creepy and atmospheric and dirgey, which only makes the fast bits sound that much more fast, the chugging guitars and way-up-in-the-mix double kick drumming. And all the heavy parts are balanced by the multiple song intros, acoustic guitars, analog synths, weird bits of percussion, swirling atmospheres, Big Boss's strange almost liturgical sounding spoken word, each intro a little mysterious sonic ritual designed to evoke some ancient atmosphere, perfect to conjure up the next blast of stumbling buzz drenched blackness. Totally cult and totally genius.
Includes new liner notes...
The bedroom synth-rockers of Scantily Clad return with their third home-brewed communique. And as always, they deliver the lo-fi/sci-fi goods with tracks that teeter from distorted cosmic rock instrumentals to moody cinematic soundscapes.
They often pack a lot of ideas into short songs that only add to their listenability. White Noise and other fucked-up and broken electronic textures are painted on over prettily composed pieces that add a noirish sublime element to the proceedings, like lullabies for powered-down robots before they retire to obsolescence. Packaged in a homemade gatefold digipack with their usual xerox copy art inserts.
Limited to 99 copies, these most likely won't last for long. Their other two releases went out of print in a flash, so don't wait too long!
NOW ON VINYL!!
Oh man, is this a match made in heaven or what? Actually, more like a match made in outer space, or in whatever warped sonic reality dub legend Scientist calls home, a dozen killer dubstep jams, from the likes of Pinch and Kode9 and Shackleton, worked over by the master, already blissed out and skeletal, dubbed out and droney, bass heavy and skittery, Scientist takes those original jams and sends them careening into the cosmos. Much of the bass is stripped away, but the drums, oh the drums, they get the science like nobody's business, bouncing from speaker to speaker, stuttering, and hiccupping, everything wrapped in clouds of echo and delay, the original melodies pulled apart until they're just barely-there streaks of sound, the dubbiness already in full effect, gets cranked to 11, most of the vocals are buried, but little bits of vocals are doused in effects and spit into the ether, only to have them boomerang right back, dizzying and dazzling, spaced out and psychedelic, even the most minimal stripped down tracks take on new life via Scientist's golden touch, it's hard to explain just what it is he does, but you can hear it, and feel it, the sounds are more out there, or in there, the original tracks just the blueprint for the abstract work of dubbed out sonic art they were meant to become. Totally blissed out and hypnotic, and so so so good. Makes us want to hear EVERYTHING get the Scientist dub treatment, garage rock, black metal, whatever, anything and EVERYthing.
The whole thing comes packaged in an eye popping old school reggae/dub cartoon covered jacket, depicting Scientist manning multiple spacecrafts, each with a cadre of dubsteppers as his crew. Awesome!
It's been nearly 15 years since we last heard from seminal electronic shoegazers Seefeel, and nearly 18 years since their breathtaking debut Qique. During the nineties, few could touch Seefeel, their sound a glorious mash up of Stereolab, My Bloody Valentine, Autechre and Aphex Twin, warm and hypnotic, dubby and drifty, programmed beats, and swirling psychedelic textures, lush minimal female vox, industrial buzz, glitchy electronics, austere atmospheres, haunting and mysterious and otherworldly, a sound that today still sounds fresh and original and miles beyond most modern electronic outfits.
We had no idea what to expect, after such a long absence, and without Mark Van Hoen, who went on to do Locust (not THE Locust) after Seefeel. Obviously we would have loved another Qique, but at the same time, it would have been rather anticlimactic to wait all that time for more of the same, especially when we have a legion of groups doing their best Seefeel already. So it seems, the band have returned with a whole new sound, and while not ditching their old sound, it is a pretty drastic shift, right from the start, a thick, gristly bit of tangled glitch and spacey effects, giving way to a spare robotic beat, laced with distorted shards of melody, a strangely stuttery, crunchy, aggressive chunk of abstract, electrophunk, underpinned by a warm fluid bassline, and some softly swirling chordal swells, some ethereal vox, the sound gradually gaining cohesion, blossoming into a fantastically hypnotic, softly psychedelic bit of stuttery shoegaze glitch. After a brief bit of electronic buzz and shimmer, comes the record's single, released as a 10" a few months back, hazy female vox, over another super minimal beat, wrapped around some deep low end warble, all wreathed in a halo of electronic crackle, a strange alien groove, subtly warped and warbly, laced with sun dappled streaks of melody, the group once again creating their own sort of electronic shoegaze, something at once beholden to the sound they pioneered, and simultaneously sounding fresh and new, and very little like anything else.
Sci-fi lazer blasts drift over tinkling melodies and video game bleeps and bloops, thick washed out swirls of prismatic shimmer whirl around shuffling industrial rhythms, waves of warm guitar wash over skeletal beats, chiming glimmering melodies rain down like sunflakes glistening in winter sunlight, dubsteppy bass warbles wrap around jagged synths and breathy dreampop vox, the sounds crunchy and glitchy, warm and whirring, lush and layered, ever shifting soundscapes of fragmented pop and fractured abstract electronica, of fuzzed out psychedelic shoegaze, and downtempo dreamlike drift, a gorgeous collection of fantastically ethereal, ephemeral, buzzy electro bliss. Incredible.
At this point we really don't need to go on and on about why we love Ty Segall so much. If you go back to all the records we've reviewed you'll get a sense of how much his raw, impassioned garage rock really moves us. With the release of his first proper live album, we can reflect on how lucky we are being right here in SF and getting so many chances to see him play, so this record is a chance for everyone else to hear what they've been missing...
Whether its a house party, a small club, or an impromptu jam, whenever Segall plays live he lays it all on the line. Being able to perfectly mix his impeccable guitar playing alongside unhinged spirit and sparks of kinetic energy.
Recorded live this past summer just down the street from aQ, at Amnesia, this is a perfect representation of the fierce power of the Ty Segall live experience. The set-list pulls from Ty's three albums as well as a brand new jam and a couple scuzzy covers of tracks by G.G. Allin and the Vibrators.
Limited to 1,000 copies, best to jump on this before its too late.
And lo, after several changes of the seasons, once again the musical mystic comes down from the mountain to play for the people his olden instrument of wood and wires. Meandering through meadows, pausing to serenade both man and beast, rock and flower with hushed blessings and blissful hummings. It's record number, what, 12 or 13 from Ben Chasny aka Six Organs Of Admittance. And the dust still chimes. This is the even brighter dawn after the luminous night.
Chasny is one of our very favorite practitioners of psych folk descended from the fringes of the Takoma tradition, American primitive meets Eastern acid, a la Basho and Bishop - Sir Richard being one of Chasny's compadres in Rangda, the fierce improv yang to this album's (mostly) gentle folky yin.
As befits its title, Asleep On The Floodplain is indeed a dreamy one, tickling with sweet tangles of strings (such as the acoustic guitar solo "Poppies"), shimmering with lovely drones (the harmonium laden "Brilliant Blue Sea Between Us"). With some tracks, like the album's intense side two epic "S/word And Leviathan" (over twelve minutes long) bringing all that together and more. It's esoteric, poetic in both inspiration and realization (there's post-graduate work to be done delving into the lyrical/conceptual side of these songs, instrumentals excluded, or not). Without such analysis, we know it's at least interesting, and more importantly emotive and evocative, whether Chasny is gently singing, or just caressing the strings. As always with Six Organs, we can surely say by now, recommended!!
And lo, after several changes of the seasons, once again the musical mystic comes down from the mountain to play for the people his olden instrument of wood and wires. Meandering through meadows, pausing to serenade both man and beast, rock and flower with hushed blessings and blissful hummings. It's record number, what, 12 or 13 from Ben Chasny aka Six Organs Of Admittance. And the dust still chimes. This is the even brighter dawn after the luminous night.
Chasny is one of our very favorite practitioners of psych folk descended from the fringes of the Takoma tradition, American primitive meets Eastern acid, a la Basho and Bishop - Sir Richard being one of Chasny's compadres in Rangda, the fierce improv yang to this album's (mostly) gentle folky yin.
As befits its title, Asleep On The Floodplain is indeed a dreamy one, tickling with sweet tangles of strings (such as the acoustic guitar solo "Poppies"), shimmering with lovely drones (the harmonium laden "Brilliant Blue Sea Between Us"). With some tracks, like the album's intense side two epic "S/word And Leviathan" (over twelve minutes long) bringing all that together and more. It's esoteric, poetic in both inspiration and realization (there's post-graduate work to be done delving into the lyrical/conceptual side of these songs, instrumentals excluded, or not). Without such analysis, we know it's at least interesting, and more importantly emotive and evocative, whether Chasny is gently singing, or just caressing the strings. As always with Six Organs, we can surely say by now, recommended!!
Never heard of Skin Graft before (the band, not the label), but this one man noisemaker offers up some seriously and gloriously disturbing blackened noise, a sound that fits pretty comfortably alongside the others in this latest batch of grim black noisy heaviness from Waves Of Decay (Wicked King Wicker, Robe., Demonologists, Dreaded).
After along stretch of keening high end, tense and weirdly melodic, SG begins to introduce all manner of buzz and glitch and malfunctioning electronics, all bathed in reverb and delay, a strange bit of crunch and hiss and stutter laid over the siren like wail of the electronic bed. It manages to be both weirdly listenable, and sonically harrowing, some sort of soundtrack for the kind of movie most folks couldn't handle 5 minutes of, this is the sound of death, and derangement, and misery and something unknown in the dark, so tense and intense and pretty goddamn great.
The rest of the tape follows suit, SG laying down spare electronic glitchscapes, buzzing fields of black ambience, slipping deftly from hushed minimal drift to blown out ear shredding electrical storms, heaving avalanches of feedback soaked noise, to barely there bits of kosmische outer space transmission interference. Cool stuff.
Super sweet three color silkscreened, card stock insert, LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, we have a little handful of those...
With a name like Slug Guts, you might expect some ugly ultradoooooom from this band, but they express their misanthropy and disgust in another genre, as these punks Slug Guts are in fact Aussie underground garage rock wranglers, swampy and sinister in the grand tradition of Nick Cave & The Birthday Party, also sharing deviant DNA with the likes of Bird Blobs, King Snake Roost, Lubricated Goat, The Scientists, and other degenerate Down Under gutter crawlers of that ilk, from over the years...
We'd first heard 'em on their import-only debut Down On The Meat a couple years back, and are stoked that Sacred Bones have added them to their fine roster for this sophomore outing. Even if we hadn't heard of 'em before, the SB seal of approval (and the band name!) would have gotten us onboard.
Plus we love this sort of thing, being big fans of the bands mentioned above, so we're primed for Slug Guts' insidiously catchy caterwauling and late night, whiskey soaked dirgery. Perhaps not quite so noisy/nasty as Down On The Meat was, here Slug Guts show off their pop side, such as is, the record being a rollin' and tumblin', slow drunkard's stagger consisting of eerie guitar jangle, low-slung bass, and deep, drawled vocals, all bathed in loads of reverb, and menace. Opener "Howlin'" has a bit of a sinuous "Painted Black" vibe and indeed the entire album is cloaked in damnation and darkness.
Bessie Smith has earned immortality as The Empress Of The Blues, having been one of the first major musical superstars of the 1920s. Though the fact has been somewhat obscured over time, female singers like Smith and Ma Rainey were the first blues artists to gain widespread exposure, something that would change when Blind Lemon Jefferson hit the scene, but no one would deny this woman's supreme mastery of her craft which she honed throughout her life, from street busking to vaudeville and later stylistic shifts during the swing era. All of this was cut tragically short when Smith was killed in a car accident in 1937, but her status is secure.
The material here was all recorded in 1927, featuring Smith and pianist James P. Johnson on a few tracks and a number of ensemble pieces elsewhere. Whatever the instrumental situation was, Smith's voice cuts through everything as the focal point. Her booming voice is impossible to ignore and reaches almost unbelievable heights. And man was she LOUD! Once again, Italy's Monk label steers us in the right direction. Bravo!
What more can we say about Snake Flower 2's Mr. Matthew Melton, the man not only behind SF2 but the sonically similar Bare Wires, not to mention some killer solo records. The Oh Sees' John Dwyer is convinced Melton is the best songwriter in the underground garage rock scene, and perhaps beyond, and well, we're inclined to agreed. SF2's Renegade Daydream, still ranks as one of our all time faves, and the last Bare Wires is like the best chunk of classic sixties mod pop that the old Who never made. The sound here, like on other SF2 records, it total classic old school Yellow Pills style power pop. None of that lysergic weirdness, hypnogogic trippiness, lo-fi murk, or faux girl group reverby shimmer, instead, Melton and his crew just write some of the catchiest jangle pop songs around, and play them in a style, and with a sound, that manages to sound totally timeless.
Hooky, jangly, crunchy, short, sharp, urgent, some killer leads, simple drumming, jangly guitars, just total classic fuzzy garagey power pop. Lots of bands out there can make the SOUND, but few have the songs to back it up. SF2 most definitely does, and like all great singles, these 4 tracks just leave you wanting more more more...
The Spacemen 3 vinyl reissue campaign continues, with the Glass Records eps now getting their due (though we're still waiting to get a hold of Take Me To The Other Side). Considering the amount of repetition in this band's catalog, many may be asking themselves whether or not they need another record with the same songs on it, and it may come down to just how obsessed you are... wait, scratch that, OF COURSE YOU NEED IT! It's awesome to have these eps available to us again individually (having been previously compiled together on cd via Taang! Records, and who knows, probably by someone else as well) because it lets you really get into the drugged out mindset of the band. Listening to these as they were intended, you can get a better idea of how Spacemen 3 established themes within their music. Rather than release mere 7" singles, they instead developed and reinterpreted certain songs on the 12" format. Which makes sense, as the band was in no rush to adhere to 3 minute pop songs if they weren't up to it. In fact, calling these "eps" is a little misleading, as the boys stretch things out to album lengths.
Transparent Radiation (last seen going for $600) is undoubtedly one of Spacemen 3's finest moments. Originally a herky jerky outsider jam by legendary Austin weirdos the Red Crayola, in the hands of Sonic and Jason the song became something undeniably greater, reaching unsurpassed heights of spiritually drugged out grandeur. If nothing else, the song is testament to the power of the electric guitar and human voice. And best of all, two versions of the song are included here, the first featuring the two singers sharing a ragged vocal harmony that sounds, well, like a couple guys trippin on some heavy shit but still holding things down like the experts they are. Next up is the complete version of "Ecstasy Symphony", which couldn't be more hypnotic with its strobing organ pulling you in deeper. No wonder they used this as their live intro. Following this is the definitive version of "Transparent Radiation" (appropriately enough, the "Flashback" version) which is so good we won't even bother trying to explain it.
Side 2 opens with the snarling "Things'll Never Be The Same", presented in complete unedited form, before going into a triumphant take on the Sun Ra / MC5 jam of "Starship", ending the record on a perfect note. Fuck yeah.
The Spacemen 3 vinyl reissue campaign continues, with the Glass Records eps now getting their due (though we're still waiting to get a hold of Take Me To The Other Side). Considering the amount of repetition in this band's catalog, many may be asking themselves whether or not they need another record with the same songs on it, and it may come down to just how obsessed you are... wait, scratch that, OF COURSE YOU NEED IT! It's awesome to have these eps available to us again individually (having been previously compiled together on cd via Taang! Records, and who knows, probably by someone else as well) because it lets you really get into the drugged out mindset of the band. Listening to these as they were intended, you can get a better idea of how Spacemen 3 established themes within their music. Rather than release mere 7" singles, they instead developed and reinterpreted certain songs on the 12" format. Which makes sense, as the band was certainly in no rush to adhere to 3 minute pop songs if they weren't up to it. In fact, calling these "eps" is a little misleading, as the boys stretch things out to album lengths.
The Walkin' With Jesus ep kicks off with the song of the same name, which itself was an early title for the song "Sound Of Confusion", off the... uh... Sound Of Confusion ALBUM. Confusion, as we all know, being an integral part of the Spacemen 3 discography. Perhaps the most striking number here is the band's insane cover of the 13th Floor Elevator's famous ode to tripping balls-as-philosophy, "Rollercoaster". While a version of this song also appeared on Sound Of Confusion, the band's dissatisfaction with that take spurred the idea of recording the song live and stretching it out to a monolithic 17 minutes. Gotta say, the 13th Floor Elevators are a band that most band's simply shouldn't/can't cover, but Spacemen 3 earned themselves a pass, for obvious reasons, and in the end they make the song their own. Amazing. After your mind tries to piece together what the fuck just happened for 17 minutes, the mellow "Feel So Good" takes you down nice and easy. Best band (of this sort) of the '80s, no question.
The record that started it all. 'It' in this case being our neverending, undying love for Mark Linkous and the desperately beautiful Sparklehorse.
This is Sparklehorse's first album, finally available again on cd after being shamefully out of print for way too long. Certainly a must for anyone who's got both Good Morning Spider and It's A Wonderful Life, but also a great place to start for those who've yet to discover the wonderful musical realm of Mark Linkous. From the slow singing-right-in-your-ear intimate "Spirit Ditch" to the rockin' summer sing-a-long "Rainmaker" to the sort-of-hit "Someday I will Treat You Good", each tune that Linkous writes is a gem: lush ballads, twangy 'No Depression' pop and experimental musical miniatures. Though at times comparisons to Camper Van Beethoven sans art school pretensions are fitting, fans of Uncle Tupelo, Palace, Vic Chesnutt, Lambchop, Wisdom of Harry and great pop in general should all take heed and check out Sparklehorse. You won't be sorry.
Holy shit, does this RULE. This is the sort of stuff we LOVE, and miss, and wish more bands could still pull off. And these guys at least, most definitely can. Heavy, heady, intricate, proggy, instrumental old school style math rock, the bass thick and distorted and low slung and massive, the drums wild and pounding and octopoidal, the guitars crunchy and chuggy one second slithery and spidery the next, the songs constantly shifting gears, from gnarled and frenetic to spacious and epic, locking into super propulsive post rock churn, before slipping into weird tangles of melody and then back again. The band compare themselves to Keelhaul, Mahavishnu Orchestra and ALL, that last one seeming out of place until you actually hear these guys, they lace their chuggy churn and dense mathiness with super catchy little melodies that do in fact sound a little like ALL (or maybe the Descendents), although if we had to come up with some sonic references, it would probably look more like this: Don Caballero, June Of 44, Rodan, A Minor Forest, Bastro, Dazzling Killmen, Breadwinner, Crain, Rumah Sakit, yeah, you probably get an idea of what this stuff sounds like, but maybe just not how goddamn good it sounds, or how good these guys really are, check the sound samples, if it was 1995, these guys would be THEE band, catchy and heavy and hooky, with a massive Albini style production, it takes a lot to keep instrumental rock from being boring, but there's NOTHING boring about the 3 long songs on this disc, so tense and intense, intricate and complex, but not simply for complexity's sake, all the instruments busy as fuck, but not overplaying, instead, just a relentless and dizzying blast of hooky heaviness and majestic mathiness, another record we have been listening to nonstop since we got it in, and one we're probably gonna regret not making Record Of The Week... So totally great!
NOW ON CD!!!
Released almost two years before The Waves, Led Astray Washed Ashore is a different kind of (awesome) record. It's power lies in being direct and driving: the drums are tribal, the layers of sound are starker and sparser. Though there's still a lot of nice washy reverb in places, Tamaryn's vocals are recorded without a lot of doubling or many effects. Where The Waves makes you feel like you're floating in a dream, Led Astray Washed Ashore is grounded in the close and crisp dynamic of mostly clean vocals and tom-heavy drumming. The first song, "Return to Surrender," has echoes of the darker songs of the Eurythmics. "The Unknown" is all chanting, tribal drumming, and what sounds like an organ: a cacophonous interlude between the energy of the opening track and the colder, more stark "Sarah In The Aeadrone." "Golden Song" sounds like the best song Siouxsie and The Banshees never wrote, though the sparkly guitar work is pure Rex Shelverton. "Ashore" and "Metal Beasts" continue the lyrical themes of death and water and drowning present on the entire record (including the cover). Yes! Truly, there's nothing more nourishing for a blackened soul than beautiful music about death.
If you're not already crazy obsessed with Telekinesis! (and yeah, the exclamation mark is part of the name), listen to maybe a minute of "Dirty Thing", and we're guessing you're gonna be totally smitten. Totally perfect, hooky classic indie pop, lush, and hooky, and so goddamn good. If these guys happened 15 years ago, folks would probably be talking about them the same way they talk about Superchunk and Guided By Voices today. High praise for sure, but well deserved we think. Their debut from last year was easily one of our favorite records, the song "Coast Of Carolina" still on heavy rotation, the perfect mix of Neutral Milk Hotel, Apples In Stereo, Death Cab... just the perfect fuzzy summery pop jam, and the thing was, the record was overflowing with similar jams, as was the cdep that followed, which brings us to this one, and guess what? Yep, another record filled to the brim with still more perfect indie pop, hooky and fuzzy and jangly, but there have definitely been some changes, it's a bit less sunshiney, a little more moody, a subtle darkness wrapped around what on the surface seems like similarly sunny sounds, some more electronics, a little bit glossier, some cool weird studio tricks, but all woven into that Telekinesis! sound we so love. And if "Dirty Thing" isn't enough to convince you, try "Please Ask For Help", which infuses jangle pop with a little bit of new wavey gloom, or "50 Ways" that pairs bug crunchy distorted guitars, with hushed delicate heartfelt vocals, lilting melodies, and super emotional vocals, or "I Cannot Love You" which sounds like some sort of Pavement / Sebadoh hybrid, all bouncy bass, start stop arrangements, and another hook to die for, not to mention some proggy distorto guitars and weird effects, we could probably go track by track through the whole record, which speaks to how great ALL these songs are. Total mixtape manna, indie rock bliss, made for both soothing bitter breakups and for soundtracking hand holding dreamdates, like all the best indie rock. A new favorite for sure!
A blurry blast of noise-rock-space-garage-what-the-fuck distorto rock from this Michigan weirdo, the opening track is an in-the-red chunk of amp melting blown out Stooges style riff rock swagger, the vocals in your face, snarling and mewling, while the drums pound, and the guitars swirl and smolder, run through an arsenal of pedals, flanger, phaser, wah wah and DISTORTION, captured on a busted 4 track, totally psychedelic and maniacal and awesome!
That's only one facet of Timmy's twisted sonic Organism, a schizophrenic sound that flits from off kilter garage rock groove to damaged glam trash blooz, to gorgeously tripped out lo-fi dream pop ambience, to crusty ramshackle fuzzed out indie rock, to full on abstract pop experimentation, the whole thing constantly on the verge of collapse, little bits of perfect melody emerging from fierce squalls of noise drenched heaviness, Joe Meek like production wrapped around full on noise psych brutality, Chrome-like sci-fi space rock gives way, to drawled Jandekian reverb bedroom folk, which transforms into some sort of synthwave weirdness, before finishing off with a gorgeous bit of lush epic and majestic indie pop mood music. Weird as fuck, and all over the map, but definitely total bliss for anyone with a sweet tooth for totally cracked pop and unhinged lo-fi noise rock weirdness.
A gorgeous record of African folk music from this legendary Malian singer, documenting a series of collaborations between friends, recorded casually, field recording style, at a family member's house. Toure would meet with each friend, hang out, drink tea and choose a song the first day, then the next day, the two would record the song, giving themselves only two takes, in order to capture the energy and spontaneity of the moment. Originally, the producer intended to mix these songs with the sounds of the street and various interviews, to create a more historical document of the music, the time and the place, but once the recordings were finished, they decided the songs were too good to mess with.
And good is an understatement, the songs here are gorgeous, emotional, intimate, passionate, and quite simple, but so powerful, generally just two instruments and one or two voices, the instruments locked into looped cyclical melodies, super trancelike and hypnotic, while the vocals soar over the top. The opener is incredible, the two guitar wound into intricate harmonies and dizzying counterpoint, the vocals lush and soulful, and when the song shifts, and the guitars get even more tangled, and the second vocal comes in, it's so intense, we've listened to that first song about 20 times now.
The other collaborations are just as moving, the vocal interplay incredible, and the various permutations of dueling guitars fantastic, the sound shifting from traditional African folk, to desert blues, to something more American influenced, but all infused with Toure's spirit and style. Anyone who's been digging the various African releases on Sublime Frequencies, or any of the Tinariwen records, will definitely dig this too.
Apparently full length number three from these Belgian experimental heavies, though the first thing we've heard from these guys, and it's kicking our asses big time, but then, really we shouldn't be surprised, hell, it's on Riot Season, home to Shit And Shine, Skull Defekts, Black Boned Angel, Aluk Todolo, Todd, Hey Colossus and loads of other aQ faves, and Ultraphallus fit right in, with their twisted avant doom and experimental sludge, a sort of twisted sprawling avant noise rock, that should most definitely appeal to fans of any or all of the above mentioned bands. The cool thing about Ultraphallus is that their sound is al over the place, when we were just cranking this in the store, someone thought it was Unearthly Trance, someone else though it was some nineties noise rock band, both of which could very well have been the case, instead it's a twisted, fucked up hybrid of the two, along with some creeping blackdrone ambience, some blown out ultra doom, some grinding blackened crust and whatever other fractured heaviness these guys can cook up.
The record swings wildly from black ambient noisescapery, thick clouds of swirling crumbling distorted sound, massive buzzing bass, and strange processed vox, to pounding almost Melvins-y sounding noise rock crush, heavy but hooky, with shrieked vox and some seriously catchy melodies, to mathy dirgey droned out doom, all downtuned riffage and pounding dirgey rhythms, to creepy swaggery swampy slither, sprawling and spacious, the vocals a croaked growl, the guitar sinewy, all laid over a grim black expanse of rumble and drift, to full on speaker shredding, crumbling blacknoise, to twisted free jazz drone sludge, squalls of skronking horns over clouds of cymbal sizzle and staticky hiss, to lumbering banjo (?!) flecked sludge pop, to experimental ambience, all layered drones and creepy atmospheres (with some wailed vocalizing by special guest Eugene from Oxbow), to one last jam, a haunting expanse of rumbling, shimmering dark dronemusic, laced with strange samples, stretched out into a hellish landscape of buzz and whir and creep and blur.
Awesome stuff, and most definitely a worthy addition to Riot Season's ever expanding roster of twisted and damaged heaviness.
We recently went a little crazy for a compilation on Finders Keepers called Thai Dai, which was was more specifically, a collection of tracks from "The Heavier Side Of The Luk Thung Underground", Luk Thung being the 'country music' of Thailand, a form of pop song that is the voice of the rural community, of the disenfranchised, and thus is a powerful and important part of Thai culture, past and present. Unlike the Thai Dai collection, which explored the sound of Luk Thung tethered to heavier fuzzier rock, and a more Western sound, even going so far as to reinterpret songs by Chicago and Black Sabbath, the songs here are gathered up from obscure 78s, all from the sixties, none of them EVER available outside of Thailand before, offering a fantastic overview of the sound and the songs of the time. Sublime Frequencies and Mississippi records obsessives, anyone who loved the Molam: Thai Country Groove From Isan compilation (sadly now out of print), folks who dug the Excavated Shellac comp (also on Parlortone) odds are this is gonna hit the spot too, the sounds are lush and lovely, the vocals so emotional and distinctive, warm wheezing accordions, traditional hand drums, Latin style horns, the melodies so intoxicating, so distinctly Thai, Gamelan like rhythms, the sound percussive, and propulsive, groovy and funky, the arrangements intricate and complex complex, but still immediate, and intimate and heartfelt and joyous, even when singing about loss and struggle, the sounds seem infused with hope, joyful and exuberant.
Packaged in a gorgeous eye popping full color cover, with an extensive full color six page insert, with photos, reproductions of 78 labels, a history of Thailand, and the music and musicians featured on the compilation.
Not sure why we had reservations about this to begin with, maybe we love the sound of Konono and Congotronics so much and hold it to an almost holy height that we were afraid of its bastardization. Luckily those fears couldn't have been more unfounded, as all the artists on this compilation, hand picked by Crammed Discs to do interpretations of various Congotronics bands like Konono No. 1 and Kasai Allstars, all do such a magnificent job of respecting the roots of the tracks they create, totally capturing the spirit of the originals while adding their own distinct flavor and vision. The track listing reads like a who's who of awesome indie music of the last several years: Animal Collective, Deerhoof, Juana Molina, Tussle, Glen Kotche, Sylvain Chauveau, Jolie Holland, Oneida, Shackleton, the Boredoms' Eye, etc.
Crammed did a really great job of curating this collection as the whole thing really flows perfectly from start to finish. Bringing you into the hypnotizing world of Congotronics through the eyes and ears of artists who have been deeply influenced by their incredible sounds.
Latest grim black slab of droned out corrosive ultradoomscapery from this East Coast one man band, a nearly 40 minute, two sided, two tracked onslaught of crumbling distortion, pulsing roiling downtuned churn, slo-mo drone-psych riffage, blackened ambient crawl and howling glacial creep, falling somewhere between the all out blacknoise brutality of Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, and the blissed out ur-drone skree of Sunroof!.
The A side is a filthy, crusty monster, but the chug and crush and rumble is infused with thick layered swaths of high end fragmented melodies, siren like pulses, a swirling tangle over a roiling black undercurrent, the strangely melodic bent gives the otherwise harsh noise a strangely orchestral feel, epic and majestic and soaring and sweeping, but still brutal and suffocatingly punishing.
The flipside is much more minimal. Muted and muddy and murky, the guitars blurred into long grimy streaks of industrial whir, blown out and super distorted, but so washed out to be almost transformed completely into a subtly propulsive dronescape, buried in the mix are some actual riffs, even a bit of rhythmic heft, and vocals too, a monstrous barely audible demonic gargle, but all wrapped in a lo-fi haze of crackling, slowly decaying sonic filth. Totally epic and hellish doomdronedirge bliss.
Housed in a super sweet three color silkscreen cover, and LIMITED TO 200 COPIES, 75 which are red, those are the ones we have, and we don't have all that many...
For some reason, it seems to take German one man band Winterblut, about 4 years to write and record a new record, at least that's the pattern we've observed over the course of all four full lengths, and the interesting thing too, is that within that huge span of time between each record, the sound of Winterblut changes dramatically, 1999's Der 6. Danach was a fierce chunk of blazing, blasting grim Nordic style blackness, while 2003's Grund: Gelenkkunst found the band utterly transformed into a twisted, convoluted SST meets Voivod sort of black prog, and then 2007's Das Aas Aller Dinge found Winterblut returning to more traditional black metal territory, but dragging some of those post rockisms and progginess with him. So here we are ANOTHER four years later, with Von Den Pflichten Schones Zu Vernichten, and again, things have definitely changed, although right off the bat, this still definitely sounds like Winterblut (Allan named that tune within about 30 seconds of hearing this for the first time without being told wht it was!!), but the sound is much more raw, and primitive, and indeed grim, the opening, a lumbering atonal midtempo trudge, the guitars jagged and abrasive, the vocals a rasped croak, the riffs woozy and trancelike, eventually the song explodes in a frenzy of blasting blackness, only to slip back into warped dirgery, and that seems to be the new Winterblut sound, veering occasionally into bursts of black intensity, but spending most of its time at a wounded crawl, the Voivodness definitely rearing its head in those parts, sounding like Dimension Hatross at 16rpm, a sort of post prog Burzumic churn, a bit doomy, quite depressive, the riffs grim and frosty, the sound sharp and brittle, super atmospheric, the atonality and gnarled chordal shifts, giving the whole record a seriously creepy fucked up vibe, which sounds incredible and seriously twisted, and is making Von Den Pflichten Schones Zu Vernichten one of our new favorite black metal records, another killer chapter, in Winterblut's very slowly expanding catalogue of black buzz miserablism. So I guess we've got 4 more to revel in WB's immersive blackness, before it's time to check in again...
Our favorite apostrophe'd doomsters from Down Under return! We've had a heck of a time tracking down the compact disc version of this, haven't been able to get it in yet (their supposed US distro won't email us back, helloooooo?), but thankfully Buried By Time And Dust just put the album out on deluxe vinyl, we got it from them along with Solstice's New Dark Age reish we reviewed last list. Usually BBTAD do reissues of classic doom (Witchfinder General, Pagan Altar, etc.) but they decided to get ahead of the curve here and release what simply sounds like something they'd eventually be reissuing anyway, if they're still doing this in 20-30 years.
With Pathways To Darkness, their second full-length, Tasmania's most Sabbathy DIY doommongers offer up a crude, yet catchy album that posers will doubtless despise. Normal folks will find the vocals too weird and nasal, the riffs too raw and remedial. But those that don't mind their doom a little damaged and psychedelic, ought to dig this wretched and rockin', emotional and eccentric, seven song opus. Less murky than some past recordings, this is, in fact, perhaps The Wizar'd at their poppiest. Seriously, slumberously.
There's lots for the True (and Truly Demented) Doom fan to love here... The slo-mo pop of "Living Dead". The melancholic triumph of "Rainbow's End". The almost gothic epic "Frankie's Dungeon". The tearful trudge of "Some Like It Dead". The spooky, droning Hammer Horror keyboards that herald "Disease From The East"... You gotta delve in, and revel in the sheer doominess of it all, that in its own outsider, down under way, retardedly rivals Electric Wizard, Reverend Bizarre, and Saint Vitus. Folks who enjoyed the recent, ridiculous, Sabbath-centric Furze might also find this to their liking as well.
By the way, there's been a few lineup changes for The Wizar'd since their previous album from 2008, with rhythm guitarist Sir Nun Piss having left the band, causing bassist Blackie The Crimson Heretic Of A Thousand Eyes to move over to guitar, alongside vocalist and lead guitarist Ol' Rusty Vintage Wizard Master, with Iron Tyrant on drums, and new bass recruit Tangerine Dream holding down the low end (of which there's plenty). Yes, those are their stage names, and aren't they great?!
Ultimately, though, even with the obvious sense of humor such names convey, we suspect that any such frivolity on the part of the The Wizar'd is part of a "sad clown" scenario, y'know? This is DOOM to the core, in the truest sense. Feel it, folks.
Being on BBTAD, it's a nicely done 180 gram vinyl slab, packaged with a booklet and a giant obi, AND they've included 3 live bonus tracks not on the cd version: "Crushing Gothic Slime", "Burned Lord", and "Smouldering Sinners"!
Well, heck this is a no-brainer, gotta be stoked by this, considering that we highlighted Wooden Stake's debut ep Vampire Plague Exorcism last list, and made Blizaro's recent full-length City Of The Living Nightmare a Record Of The Week not long before that too! Obviously, eagerly awaited, so Hail Satan it's here already - the split release that sees these horror lovin' lunatics together on one cd with exclusive new material. First up, there's the deathly, doomed-out duo Wooden Stake, one of the heaviest and gnarliest of the current wave of female fronted "occult rock" acts a la Jex Thoth and The Devil's Blood; followed by (mostly) one-man band Blizaro, who continues to channel the sinister soundtracks of Italian giallo film through a psychedelic, DIY doom metal prism. Totaling five songs, 43 minutes (two tracks, 14'44" of Wooden Stake; three tracks, 27'53" of Blizaro) this disc is a delirious dose of underground doom weirdness indeed.
Wooden Stake gallop into view with "Death Reads The Black Tarot", Vanessa Nocera's witchy wail leading the charge, somberly supported by the rumbling riffage and bashing battery of Wayne Sarantopoulos (aka drummer Elektrokutioner, of Decrepitaph, Father Befouled, and Encoffination infamy, among others). Their other offering, "The Legend Of Blood Castle" is equally grim and gruesome, the Blood Castle practically coagulating around your ears as you listen to its legend...
Then the balance of the disc is given over to the bizarre progged-out rites of Blizaro, conducted via copious quantities of lumbering bass heavy trudge, psychotic vox, and psychedelic six string freakout. The tracks "Night Fumes" and "Edgar's Blood" are both about one half maniac metal chuggery, one half ominous church organ atmospheres, with a bit more melody on the metal side of the equation with regards to the latter. And then Blizaro winds things up with the calm yet creepy synth soundscape, "Final Escape/Zombie Feast", a Moog-laden mood piece. Nice!
Limited edition release, never to be repressed, FYI.
Xex was the experimental synthpop creation of three high-school misfits living in central New Jersey during the mid-'70s, having survived their teen years of suburban boredom with plenty of drugs and eye-opening excursions to New York. Liberated by the spirit of punk, this outfit - pseudonymously known as Waw Pierogi, Thumbalina Gugielmo, and Alex Zander (later joined by Jon-Boy Diode and David Anderson) - took up the task of infusing a smarty-pants cynicism to hyper-primitive arrangements on a small assortment of synths and drum machines. No guitars whatsoever, the sound of Xex is one of skewed melodicism and incessant repetition. This combined with a typically monotone vocal sensibility put Xex in the same synthpunk orbit as The Units and Crash Course In Science. It's a very American sound, to look back upon all of these records. In Europe, the new wave and synthpop was far more self-possessed, even amongst the DIY circles, but for a certain subset in the States, the nerds had become emboldened in punk to use science and math as a spasmodic, future-shock means for nihilist poetics and cathartic release - hence, Devo, Dark Day, Nervous Gender, the aforementioned Crash Course In Science, and Xex. With the exception of Primitive Calculators and Severed Heads in Australia, there's hardly a parallel anywhere else in the world to this synthpunk sound; and Xex were certainly exceptional at it.
Group Xex was the only record they released, although the band recorded a second album but never released it (unfortunately the tapes of that second album had deteriorated beyond repair). Self-released in 1980, the album was sold pretty much exclusively in Manhattan and North Jersey, with an edition of a 1000 copies disappearing quickly. The album did get a cd reish in 1995 after Tom Smith championed the record after discovering it in the vaults at WFMU. It's a very quizzical album of purposefully simple electronic tunes played upon whipcrack drum machines and minimally percolating synths matched by the alternatinge female and male vocals, which are always thin, reedy, and metallic. Thumbalina's girly vocals bounce through the motorik synthpop ditty "Fashion Hurts" whose singsonginess is immediately countered by the unwavering robotic monotone that Pierogi presents on the cybernetic "You Think", and the grim, paranoiac poetry on "SNGA" (which stands for Soviet Nerve Gas Attack).
Another great find from the always impressive Dark Entries label! Definitely for fans of Devo and the Units. Limited to 500 copies with a great looking new wave booklet with lyrics, a band history, and some amusing tidbits thrown in for good measure.
The long awaited debut full length from Young Prisms, a youthful SF Mission District based quartet who kick out some of the raddest psychedelic shoegaze slacker jams we've heard in ages.
Thick clouds of swirling soft focus guitar noise and churning grinding muted crunch obscure drifty indecipherable vocals, spidery guitar melodies running throughout, propulsive indie jangle wreathed in reverb, shuffling drums, loads of effects, somewhere in this swirl of shifting sounds and layered lurk pretty little pop songs, but those pop songs drag along all manner of sonic detritus in their wake, transforming the group's stripped down garage pop into something much more grand, something that sounds like Sonic Youth crossed with My Bloody Valentine, but even more blissed out and ethereal, the vocals lilting and haunting sometimes give the songs a Blonde Redhead vibe, but way more chaotic and dreamily noise drenched, and still with enough jangle and crunch that they can still hang with the cool kids (Ty Segall, Thee Oh Sees, etc.), and while these guys are in fact pretty dang cool, they're also still outsiders, noisier, heavier, their sound more washed out and deliriously druggy, the songs, no matter how simple or stripped down in the beginning, seem to always blossom into explosive garage psych blowouts, huge billowing clouds of gauzy hazey buzz and thick clouds of psychdrone blissdrift blur. But never completely obscuring the jangle pop underneath, Which is what makes these guys so good. We dig big time!
Hard to believe these guys (and gals) are British, cuz the music they make is pretty much a dead ringer for nineties college/indie rock. Which is not a complaint at all, that's a sound we love and miss like crazy, and most of the bands who try it, can sometimes capture the sound, but rarely have the songs to go with it, but Yuck, who are indeed British, and also crazy young, have both, from the keening Mark Linkous (Sparklehorse) like vocals, to the super distorted leads a la Dinosaur Jr., to the lo-fi ramshackle sound and impossibly hooky melodies of old Pavement, all woven into something new and simultaneously not that new at all.
"Georgia" here is their big hit, and it's easy to see why, a sort of Swirlies style bit of shoegazey indie pop jangle drift, the guitars warm and fuzzy, the female vox all reverby and murky, the sound distorted and lo-fi, plenty of tambourine, and bop bop boy background vocals, jangly and hooky and so catchy, a total summer jam if there ever was one. But folks who think maybe Yuck were a one trick pony / one hit wonder are in for a serious surprise, as the record opens with a song we think is even better than "Georgia", with its fuzzed out Dinosaur guitars, and melancholy melodies, not to mention some killer super melodic leads. There's also a low slung bass heavy verse, the vocals laid back and slackery, backed up by spidery guitars, and then the chorus, a gorgeously hook filled explosion of slightly twangy sunshiney fuzz pop bliss. "The Wall" is just as good, casting the current garage rock sound of folks like Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall as something much more early nineties college rock, and "Shook Down" is all sun dapped soft focus jangle pop, with acoustic guitars, heartfelt vox and chiming melodies.
The rest of the record plays out much like you'd expect, from the strummy almost Brit pop sounding "Suicide Policeman" to the buzzy distorto pop of "Holing Out", from the moody, hazy almost Mazzy Star sounding "Suck" to the distorto dirge pop of "Rubber", it may play out like a flashback to the good old days, but Yuck definitely make that sound all their own, somehow creating something fresh and new, from a sound we can never get tired of.
So good!
