What more can we say about the amazing Ethiopiques series of compilations that we haven't already? And what else can we say about legendary Ethiopian vocalist Mahmoud Ahmed, who is probably featured on more of the various Ethiopiques collections than any other musician?
Have a look at our reviews on the aQ site of the other 25 installments, and you'll see just how much we love this stuff. In fact, Volume 4 in the series might just be one of our best selling titles EVER. For those new to Ethiopian music, this is as good a place to start as any, featuring some of the earliest recordings of Mahmoud Ahmed, recorded when he was a member of the Imperial Bodyguard Band, during a time when most modern Ethiopian music was generated exclusively by military institutions, army bands, police bands and even, yes, the Imperial Bodyguard Band, which Ahmed joined in the early sixties.
There's a wild tale in the cd booklet about a huge musical festival held every year, where the various institutional bands would perform in front of thousands, and compete for the adoration of the crowd, the competition so fierce, that the various bands would rehearse secretly, and post guards outside while they practiced, stopping immediately if anyone got too close, and it was this intense competition that drove these bands to practice incessantly, and continually get better and better. And it says something that these early tracks are so incredible, and it's not just Ahmed's voice, the arrangements are lush and intricate, the melodies, the horns, the background vocals, the music is hard to describe, it's soulful, a little funky, and distinctly Ethiopian, once you've heard a few of these comps, the second you hear Ethiopian music from this era, you know, it sounds like nothing else. Listen to the sound samples, we're guessing you'll be smitten as we are, and once you've absorbed volume 26, you can begin to work your way back through the first 25. You think we're joking, but this stuff is really that amazing...
The absolute hardest albums to write about are those we hold in the highest esteem and though we have an aversion to the general notion of a "desert island selection", this Amon Duul II disc is one of those albums that we could see as an definite inclusion on
Bruce Anderson is best known as the guitarist / frontman for Bay Area seminal avant-punk band MX-80, whose records back in the early '80s situated themselves on the suitably angular Ralph Records - home to The Residents, Snake Finger, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Tuxedomoon, etc. This 2008 composition - possibly just released, possibly never distributed until now - is a long-form, multi-tracked acoustic guitar exploration. Upon first listen, Fahey, Loren Mazzacane Connors, and Tom Carter seem the obvious references for these lilting elliptical arrangements; but as the piece develops, Anderson is insistent on hitting purposefully sharp notes, which atonally register thanks to his panned stereo distribution of layered tracks. As result, The Inherent Beauty Of Hopelessness begins to mutate into a Jandekian aesthetic of warped raga-blues, as if the Jandek standard "European Jewel" found itself tempered and elongated into a quiet, 40-minute epic.
This one shouldn't need much of a description. The debut full length from this new group featuring Kevin Morby from psychedelic stoner folk garage poppers Woods, and Cassie Ramone from girl garage group the Vivian Girls, and it sounds just like you'd expect/imagine/hope. A perfect mix of the two. Fuzzy, jangly, ramshackle boy/girl lo-fi garage rock / indie pop, big crunchy guitars, simple pounding drumming, droned out repetitive melodies, and some seriously killer hooks. A little bit Velvets, a little Ramones/Misfits (in that sort of hooky poppy punkness), some stonery psychedelia, lots of bouncy and poppy pep, plenty of echo and reverb, the songs slipping from wild and punky and loose and loud, to more dark and layered and less raucous, to hazy and sun dappled and folky. And of course the dueling boy/girl vox and the occasional harmonies which result only seal the deal.
Fans of both Woods and Vivian Girls will of course dig, but so will anyone into Thee Oh Sees, The Dum Dum Girls, Royal Baths, the Mantles, Brilliant Colors, Male Bonding, Parting Gifts, Home Blitz, the Vaselines, Vermillion Sands, Grass Widow and the rest of the current crop of garage-y jangle poppers...
A few months back, we made the Rhino reissue of the debut release from the Bee Gees our Record of the Week. Which raised a few eyebrows, at least until the ears nearby to those eyebrows actually heard the gorgeously melancholy,�sweet, shimmery, sun dappled, minor key pop confections of the band that would somehow go on to be the kings of disco. But long before Saturday Night Fever and white disco suits and questionable movie music reinterpretations of Beatles albums, the Bee Gees were masters of lush moody pop, releasing what some consider to be one of the most perfect 1-2-3 pop punches in forever, 1st, Horizontal and Idea.�
The Beatles are definitely worth mentioning, as the Bee Gees shared a similar knack for both perfect hook filled pop and slightly trippy, druggy psychedelia, that managed to find it's way into much of their music and many of the lyrics. Horizontal is packed with plenty of�sixties jangle and�gorgeous vocal harmonies, but where as 1st was filled with short sharp pop, Horizontal is a much darker beast, the songs are longer, slower, and much moodier, lots of minor key melodies, wild squalls of psych guitar, wheezing instrumental stretches, the vocals are even more dramatic and emotional, soaring strings, unlikely instrumentation, the songs are still catchy, just more subtly so.�
The opener, "World" sounds like the Zombies, via the Kinks, with a slow burning urgency, long drawn out droning instruments, an insistent beat, and a hook to die for. Later on, "Really And Sincerely" almost sounds like Antony And The Johnsons, right down to the super emotional vocals. Then there's the super slinky "The Earnest Of Being George", that sounds like "Come Together" era Beatles, all smoke and slither. Then there's the title track, their own "Day In The Life", epic and intense, dark moody piano and haunting strings, with heartbreaking melodies and those perfect, perfect vocals. Such an amazing record. Along with the other two (1st and Idea), this is absolutely essential, some of the most timeless perfect pop you'll ever hear!
Gorgeously elaborate reissue, in a massive 8 panel digipak, full color with tons of amazing photos, a massive booklet also packed with photos, with lengthy liner notes, as well as notes on each track from the surviving members. The first disc contains the full version of the album, in both stereo AND mono, the second disc contains lost tracks, random B sides, alternate and early versions, as well as two gorgeous Christmas songs, one a medley of� "Silent Night" and "Hark The Herald Angels Sing", as well as 5 other unreleased tracks, most of which are as good as anything on the actual album!
Hot shit musique concrete found here! There are so many stuffy compositions and constructions that look back to the salad days of tape experimentation in the '50s and '60s. Works can get so conceptual with each sound being meant to allude to some particular phrases of Beckett or recapitulate the Merz of Schwitters that the interplay between this found sound and that electronic blorp is totally lost amidst a dull and boring concoction that serves little more than an execution of a grant application. This is certainly not the case for Canadian composer Nicolas Bernier, whose dexterous yet ominous concrete album has landed in the good hands of Hronir, a label which has a small catalogue of brutal collage artists (e.g. Sudden Infant, Raionbashi, GX-Jupitter Larssen) to accompany more oblique voices from the academic world. While Bernier's work isn't nearly as toxic as those jackbooted noiseniks, his compositions are wholly discomforting, and we mean that in the best possible light. Within the avant-garde pantheon, Bernier's work follows that of Michel Chion and Luc Ferrari doing their finest work, through dynamic juxtapositions blurting concrete sounds (bellowing car horns, steam engine growls, leaden explosions, etc) against unsettled atmospheres and spackled dronings that start and stop with a series of repeating punctuations not unlike the strategy that Nurse With Wound mastered on Homotopy To Marie. He's aware of the cinematic urge for acousmatic works, and pushes "Les chambres de l'atelier" towards a Lynchian noir with a soft-focus melody warbling in the background to a series of crunched abrasions and eerie footsteps, ruptured by ghostly noises. Excellent, through and through! Limited to 300 copies as well.
This Italian band's sole album from 1985 is a tough one to figure out. An oddity all right. They're definitely a metal band at heart -- the fast-paced, pre-album demo track "Midnight Madman" included here as one of four bonus cuts is proof of that -- but on their album itself, they somehow created a much more unexpectedly PSYCHEDELIC and spacey, synthy sound. Totally dark and gothic in a metal way, yeah, but lost in space at the back of a black hole (of course), a slowed-down, doomed-out, dosed-with-cough-syrup vibe, splicing bits of Voivod with the likes of Jacula... in fact, the lurching music on this crackly disc (mastered directly from a none-too-pristine vinyl copy, the original reels having been lost to time, and sounding to us all the better for it!) could be AQ-faves Jacula given an '80s metal makeover... the church organ strains that open "Demoniac City" surely set that tone. Meanwhile, the title track cops a riff from Sabbath's "Electric Funeral", as if to give the nod to their biggest influence we're pretty sure. But the doomy compositions of vocalist/bassist/organist Robert Measles (great name!!) also derive from phantasms far beyond our plane, we're pretty sure of that as well.
Those in the know about Italian '80s metal acts like Death SS, Paul Chain, Bulldozer and Dark Quarterer are aware that a bizarre, poverty-stricken sort of prog weirdness often infects the proceedings, and Black Hole are no exception. In their case, on this album, it makes for something really strange and special, creating a cultish legacy that led to this cd reissue. We're glad to get to hear it! Now it's time to burn the black candles and visit Black Hole's "Spectral World" ruled by "Blind Men And Occult Forces"...
This Canadian doom-psych-prog-metal band's 2008 debut was a big fave 'round here, we likened their female-fronted n' flutey, Hammond organ driven occult heaviness to "Electric Wizard given a medieval, madrigal makeover" and compared 'em to a hypothetical Atomic Rooster + Jacula + Jex Thoth hybrid. So, stoked are we to announce the arrival of a brand new Blood Ceremony, still damp and crimson, and damn good! There's a few ways, we figure, a band like this could go: get darker and more extreme metal (a la Wooden Stake), or lighten up and develop more in their prog direction (we could imagine 'em sounding something like Curved Air in that case). Or, of course, they could provide more of the same, which would elicit no complaints from us. And that's what Blood Ceremony pretty much opted for, this album coming off like a continuation / perfection of their debut, nine more songs of vintage '70s sounding, witchy rockarolla. With plenty of rollicking Hammond organ and swinging retro riffery, they deliver the progged-out proto-metal goods like it's 1971 and they've just come from getting stoned with their groovy coven. Complete with a flute happy instrumental ("The Hermit"). And definitely, with a lot hinging on the dramatic, stagey, sometimes soft, sometimes soaring, vocals of Alia O'Brien.
Again, VERY much in the vein of Jex Thoth. O'Brien and Blood Ceremony are almost the Burning Saviours to Jex Thoth's Witchcraft, if you follow that doom-nerd analogy. Another would be Black Sabbath with a sex change, and Deep Purple or Uriah Heep's keyboards hired on... as Sabbath's actual keyboardy stuff, courtesy caped wonder Rick Wakeman on Sabbath Bloody Sabbath ferinstance, was a lot more "synthy" sounding than the classic Hammond vibe heard here, played in kick ass fashion by O'Brien by the way, a triple threat talent who's also the band's flautist, flaunting it indeed, what would they do without her?
Not that the guitarist, for one, doesn't get to shine as well, in the riff department, and dueling leads with the organ, like during the swirling, surging tour de force of the epic "Oliver Haddo" (the album's second longest song, not quite beating out the 10 minute plus closer, "Daughter Of The Sun", another extended, involved rite, all right).
This time, produced by Sanford Parker (Pelican, Yob, Zoroaster, Samothrace, The Gates Of Slumber, etc.), which perhaps accounts for some of the added thickness/heaviness we sense here, though the debut was heavy too. He also supplies some Moog.
This disc's too-dark cover photo of the band is about the only disappointment, whereas the cover painting for their first album, by fantasy artist George Barr, was something to look at. But for listening, this is indeed the answer to your prayers to the Great God Pan. So good, we simply can't get enough of this, and if you too are truly in the mood for some beauteous and bombastic, rockin' pagan prog heaviness, then it's time to begin Living With The Ancients!
The Work Which Transforms God, Blut Aus Nord's most recent release (originally released in 2001, but reissued in 2005), quickly became an all time AQ fave, with its strange mix of damaged off kilter black metal, caustic industrialism and droney dark ambience. Since then the first three BaN discs have gotten reissued and we're just now finally getting around to reviewing them.
The Mystical Beast Of Rebellion was Blut Aus Nord's third release from way back in 2001, immediately preceding The Work Which Transforms God and displayed more of a classic black metal vibe, very droney and mesmeric, a seasick buzz drenched blast, with warped epic melodies, all very minor key and melancholy, lending the proceedings a very moody doomlike vibe. Very reminiscent of classic Immortal or Satyricon. There is definitely some sonic foreshadowing of weirdness to come, slow slithery stretches of murk and mumble, abstract ambient breakdowns, long stretches of buzz slowed way down into truly harrowing lurching lopes, riffs that bend and seem to warble as if some invisible hand was altering the pitch control, dark and dreary miserablism twisted into very Nortt like mid tempo droney doom.
But The Mystical Beast Of Rebellion is more about the blast and buzz, the forst and fuzz, and if you're anything like us, that should suit you just fine!
First proper non cd-r release from this aQ beloved one man black metal band, makes sense that it would end up on Paradigms, whose list of releases reads like most aQ customers' record collections: Murmuure, The Angelic Process, Decrepit Spectre, Woburn House, Fog In The Shell, Gnaw Their Tongues, Hjarnidaudi, Mourner, Wraiths, Throne Of Katarsis, Titan, Utlagr... You might as well add Book Of Sand to that list.
Before Book Of Sand, there was an atmospheric doom metal duo called Light, when Light ended, half of Light became Book Of Sand and released How Beautiful To Walk Free, a cd-r that we (and lots of you) went nuts for. Not your typical buzzing blackness, but something more abstract, a churning morass of warm black shimmer and blurred abstract riffage, a swirling sonic drift that was as much black metal as it was avant abstract metallic minimalism. Destruction, Not Reformation (one of TWO Book Of Sand releases on this week's list) takes that same atypical black metal sound and pushes it even further out, creating a sort of chamber music black metal, strings and piano augment the usual guitar buzz and drum blast, creating lush almost orchestral sounding swells of blackened buzz, soaring and majestic, and much like Liturgy, the frenzied tremolo picked riffage becomes something else entirely, mesmerizing symphonic squalls of blurred melody, and while that picking is lightning fast, it's set amidst a sound that is much slower, a heaving droney creep, lumbering and lurching, and wreathed in that frenzied black buzz, a sort of transcendental ur-drone, woven into the grim black fabric of these songs. Although grim and black only scratches the surface of the sounds found here, some of the tracks are like disembodied pop songs, shoegazey and impossibly melodic, just wrapped in buzzing swirls of blackness, while others sound like folk songs burned black, the strings so lyrical and soulful and the perfect balance for the brittle buzz, and yet even at its most intense and dense and buzzy and black, the sound is still washed out and woozy, blurred and smeared and gorgeously dreamlike, the is atmospheric, ethereal, melodic and mysterious black metal, the buzz is burnished into something much smoother, the howled vokills are buried beneath layers of sound, all bleeding into each other, a super saturated sprawl of sound, blackened and buzzy, but also breathlessly beautiful.
One of TWO new releases from Midwestern one man black metal band Book Of Sand, the other, a cd on Paradigms, is a gorgeous slab of washed out droney, avant droned out black metal blur, this one is a similarly abstract chunk of outsider blackness, a record made up entirely of covers, all of them old traditional folk songs, reimagined as buzzing blasting black metal songs, and as weird a concept as it may seem, it actually works quite well, the lilting melodies and sing song arrangements translate quite well, and the fact that the man behind Book Of Sand also plays violin/fiddle, it adds still another traditional folk element, mostly introducing the melody before the blackness and buzz come in, but sometimes carrying the melody throughout.
Other than the songs, the sound itself is pure black metal, the guitars buzz and the drums pound and blast, the vocals are harsh and howled, the sound is washed out and blurry, buzzy and blackened, but in this context, playing these songs, the whole thing is transformed into something totally transcendent, something dark and mysterious and strangely super emotional, the songs themselves, one a 15th century French folk song, one a traditional Appalachian folk song, one a traditional African American lullaby from the South and so on, are already so powerful, and timeless, and are imbued with such power and energy, having been played and performed for generations, sometimes centuries, but when wedded to this powerful buzzing blackness, this intense and metallic sound, they somehow become even more intense. Other black metal bands have definitely dabbled with traditional folk musics, but something about these songs, and these versions, make this seem really extra special. Haunting, and heavy, and mysterious.
Packaged in a brown yardstick sleeve, silkscreened with black ink, inside a printed cardstock insert, and a silkscreened patch, the whole thing wrapped up with twine, and yeah, VERY LIMITED!! ONLY 100 COPIES!!!
There's a whole new generation of indie rockers who missed out on a crucial era in indie rock history in the early nineties, K Records, the International Pop Underground, etc., and thus probably don't remember Tiger Trap, a short lived group that released a single record and a handful of singles before calling it quits after about a year. But TT had a lasting impact, and found a cult following, and made TT frontwoman Rose Melberg a bit of an indie rock icon. Along with Black Tambourine (whose complete discography was recently reissued and is reviewed elsewhere on the aQ site), Beat Happening, Heavenly, Tsunami, Mecca Normal and others, Tiger Trap were a group who represented the DIY indie rock spirit and helped empower women to start bands and labels. Melberg would go on to play in Go Sailor and the Softies, and has returned once again in Brave Irene, whose sound is not that far removed from her other bands, which is just fine with us, stripped down, soft focus jangly indie pop, Melberg's voice is in fine form, lots of dreamy harmonies, warm whirring organs, fuzzy guitars, propulsive rhythms, eight songs in 17 minutes, brief bursts of perfect pop, dreamy and hypnotic, a sound of which we never tire.
Absolutely for fans of any of the above mentioned bands, and the current crop of girl pop: Grass Widow, Dum Dum Girls, White Fence, Vivian Girls, Splinters, Girls At Dawn, Veronica Falls, Yellow Fever...
So many modern bands are looking back to the eighties, and even the seventies for inspiration, which quite frankly to those of us who grew up during those decades, seems a bit surprising, and shocking, all of the stuff that seemed cool then, was quickly deemed "what the fuck were we thinking" not too long after, from MTV synth pop to yacht rock to fringed leather jackets to creepers to rubber bracelets to... well you get the point, the kids today are reclaiming out teenage shame and doing their damndest to make it cool.
But what we're waiting for, and it can't be long off now, is the nineties revival, grunge, post rock, math rock, bands who look to Rodan, Pitchblende, Polvo, Bitch Magnet and all those bands for their inspiration. There are definitely a few bands digging into that era, but maybe it's that it just hasn't been long enough for the younger generation to discover that stuff, lots of those bands are still playing, or playing again, which is totally okay, we can wait, as long as SOMEONE is still making that kind of music. And making it well. Which brings us to Broughton's Rules, made up of members of Pittsburgh's legendary math rockers Don Caballero and not so legendary but still bad ass math rockers Blunderbuss (whose song "Broughton's Rules" is where these guys got their name).
The label's spiel is "recommended if you like: Russian Circles, Sonic Youth, Slint, Shellac, Battles Pelican and The Psychic Paramount", and we certainly can't argue with that, we might also throw in the above mentioned bands Rodan, Polvo, Pitchblende, along with Table, Breadwinner, Bastro, Butterglove, Hose.Got.Cable, Crain, June Of 44, The For Carnation, Shipping News, Turing Machine, Phleg Camp, well, you get the drift. Obviously we love this stuff, and are psyched when some band can totally pull it off, and since these guys have basically been pulling it off since back in the day, it should be no surprise that this RULES.
Dense and lush and intricate, moody and melodic, complex and convoluted, heavy and super rocking, mathy and meandering, brooding and moody, droney and blissed out, the songs are epic and sprawling, but manage to still be catchy, and this isn't all instrumental, there are vocals, which make this eminently more appealing to the rest of the maybe-not-so-instrumental-math-rock-obsessed world, and while there is plenty dense heaviness, and some intense mathiness, there are moments that are sunshiney and melodic and major key, a good balance, and a hell of a good record. One of our new faves for sure.
Now bring on the nineties math rock revival!
Another winner from Slumberland, the debut from Philly psychedelic sunshine poppers Brown Recluse, who weave warm lush orchestral pop epics, that manage to be mysterious and experimental, but at the same time timeless and classic. Equal parts Elephant Six, Brazilian Tropicalia, sixties symphonic pop like the Zombies and the Bee Gees, as well as the usual reverby pop suspects like Phil Spector and Joe Meek and Brian Wilson, not to mention, there are plenty of modern groups whose sounds are reflected here, whether by design or chance:
Belle And Sebastian, Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, High Llamas, Cardinal, and the way more obscure but HUGELY aQ beloved the Rollo Treadway...
Brown Recluse create their own fantastical pop other world, everything bathed in sunlight and painted bright primary colors, candy coated and wreathed in sparkling glimmering shimmer, all assembled from strange soft shapes, wreathed in reverb, layered and lush, melodies chime and drift dreamily, organs and calliopes evoke some mysterious carnivalesque pop past, the vocals are warm and mellifluous, the harmonies divine, guitars jangle, sometimes fuzzy and crunchy, just as often clean and crystalline, the arrangements are intricate and dynamic, each song like a mini pop(era), lilting and melodic and hooky and catchy and fuzzy and ethereal, soaring strings, horns, fluttering flutes, simple programmed beats, shuffling drums, all woven into one of the dreamiest collections of hazy classic psychedelic power pop we've heard in ages. Blossoming a little bit more every time we play it, this is fast becoming contender for pop record of 2011!
There's no shortage of psychedelic space rock in SF these days: recent Record Of The Weekers Lumerians, the Spyrals (who have a new tape reviewed elsewhere on this week's list), Wooden Shjips, Sleepy Sun, and these guys, Carlton Melton, not a person, but a quartet, who conjure up epic stretches of spaced out psychedelia, and who, unlike many of their contemporaries, seem to be less concerned with the pulse, and the rhythm, and the groove, as they are with the SOUND, and the VIBE, weaving lush, expansive sprawls of effects drenched psychedelic ambience, drifting more often than driving, huge clouds of swirling wah guitars, and minimal spare drumming, which seems to exist more as a pulse, than a beat proper, everything murky and muddy and washed out, at once lo-fi, but impossibly dense and heavy, the band seeming to drift weightless though swirling starlit sonic skies, their sound loose and free and abstract and ephemeral, the whole first side here is a single track, the title track, and it's a fantastically entrancing space drone epic, a sound the drifts and buzzes and flutters and swirls, the sound emerging in swells, building into squalls of warm whirling chaos only to slip back into something more druggy and dreamy and meditative, it's not until the final couple minutes that the song finally explodes, and even then it doesn't really get heavier, the rhythm doesn't get any more intense, instead, it just sounds like the whole band crank it up a notch, the swirling clouds of effects and guitars suddenly become more volatile, and more chaotic, the melodies gradually swallowed up by slashes of distorted guitar crunch and crumbling walls of distortion, the sound gets more dense, and more thick, and the whole time the main groove, now buried beneath the roiling surface, continues on unwavering, the only thing keeping the track from drifting into the heavens and toward the heart of the sun.
The flipside is more of the glorious same, barring a brief bit of solo guitar, an interlude that is bookended by two more heaving walls of krautpsych swirl, the band unfurling droned out minimal hypnorock mini epics, that howl and thrum, buzz and shimmer, songs that obviously could have been stretched way out and turned this into a double lp.
As always, fantastic stuff. Fans of the SF psych/space/drone/kraut rock contingent that aren't already into CM, get with it! And obviously, anyone into White Hills, Hawkwind, Pink Floyd, Cave, The Heads, Heavy Winged, Bardo Pond, White Noise Sound, Spacemen 3 and the like, these guys will definitely hit the spot.
Yet another new release from the uber prolific Mr. Tim Cohen, who, when he's not fronting aQ faves the Fresh & Onlys, jamming out massive space drug epics with 3 Leafs, or blasting away mysteriously as black metal one man band Amocoma, finds time to make solo records too, like this one, with his OTHER band Magic Trick. And as you might imagine, the sound of TC's Magic Trick doesn't veer to far from the sound of the F+O, if anything, the sounds and songs here are more varied, less overtly garage rocky, and more personal, like experiments, but experiments suggests there's some risk of failure, some chance said experiment will fail, and as we know by now, Cohen's deft hand at popsmithery makes that pretty unlikely. And TCMT does seem to extend his streak, with another collection of perfect(ly off kilter) pop songs, from simple shuffly jangle, to pulsing electronic moody new wave, from brooding dour acoustic folkiness to sixties style sunshiney Spector-ish fuzz, often weaving all of those disparate sounds and styles together. Hazy reverby guitars drift under deep crooned vox, muted electronic pulses drive a warm liquid basslines, synths swirl and soar, female back up vox offer up angelic harmonies, Cohen's vocals getting better and better, rough and ragged one second, warm and smooth the next, and often slipping into a sweet falsetto, the songs too, with every record seeming to become more and more well crafted, a practically perfect assemblage of unlikely parts, surprising melodies, lush textures, quirkly electronics, multiple vocal parts, but none of those distracting from Cohen's vision, just adding to it, woven into a smooth, warm, shimmery, jangly dream poppy whole. Nice!
What has to be our favorite British pagan folk psychedelic prog rock album ever (in other words, quite possibly our favorite album ever, period!) is finally available again on cd, and in a gorgeous Japanese mini-lp gatefold sleeve to boot, with the disc itself all state-of-the-art remastered, sounding great.
THIS RECORD SCARES US. Hearing it is like stumbling upon some forbidden ancient ritual that scares you to death. You stand paralyzed, too afraid to look away. Comus's singular, frightening sound and violently poetic lyrics have kept them from taking their rightful place alongside Fairport Convention, Incredible String Band, and the rest of Britain's psychedelic folk royalty.
And we don't write the words psychedelic folk royalty without a certain amount of trepidation. At first glance Comus would seem to fit squarely in the Ren-Faire camp: bongos, flute, oboe, 12-string guitar, and no drummer. But never has the whole of a band so completely defied its parts; their sound is as mesmerizing as it is repulsive. Upon the record's initial release, one British music journalist wrote that she "didn't get past the first track, which sounded like a cross between a frenzied version of the witches chorus from Macbeth, and Marc Bolan being squeezed to death." Funny thing is, that's a fairly apt description. Tales of murder, rape, insanity, and witchcraft unfold amid a swirling abyss of seething acid folk. Squalls of shamanistic wailing jut uncomfortably from serene, tranquil melodies; guttural growls battle a delicate angelic chorus, echoing the violent struggle of the lyrics. Flutes, hand drums, acoustic guitars, and a violin clamber atop one another in a chaotic melee, creating a pagan folk not unlike that of The Wicker Man soundtrack gone totally bonkers.
Although the band has been resolutely ignored by mainstream music fans, the press, and the majority of the underground, a small rabid following has kept a reverential vigil beside the corpse of Comus.
Nurse with Wound cronies Current 93 modeled their '90s sound after '70s British folk, Comus especially. They even went so far as to cover "Diana," Comus's only single, on their album Horsey. Swedish progressive black metallers Opeth have always been outspoken about their love of Comus. Their acclaimed 1998 album was called My Arms, Your Hearse, after the lyrics of "Drip Drip" (on First Utterance). And it's not surprising. This record is so powerful and frightening and totally devastating even 30 years later.
And never would I have thought that a record as old as me, with flutes and bongos fer chrissakes, could be so absolutely malevolent, both sonically and lyrically! But like I said, this record scares us. And we know you like to be scared too!
We were hoping that this new cd edition would include the two bonus tracks from from an early single that the Italian vinyl reissue included as a bonus 12", but such is not the case. Oh well. Still ranks as one of our all time favorites.
Shadow Kingdom sure has become one of those labels, that whatever they put out, whether it be some rare '80s metal reissue by a band we've never heard of, or an equally unknown release by a brand new band, we know want to hear it, 'cause the label is definitely focused on the sort of obscure cult metal we love, usually doomy, often epic, quite classic and sometimes a bit eccentric. From lost NWOBHM treats like Wolfbane and Deep Switch to modern day doom like Garden Of Worm and Crowned In Earth, they've been bringing it.
So, listen up, here's another good one from 'em. A Painful Journey Into Nihil is the debut full-length from Chilean doomsters Condenados (which means "Doomed" in Spanish, we're not surprised to learn). Of course, we immediately thought of Procession, another doom trio from Chile that we happen to love (and who have a new album out we hope to be getting soon!), and that's not far off the mark. Both bands traffic in trudge, extruding glacially epic dark doom that sounds a bit like Swedish gods Candlemass, but even more bummed out and despairing, maybe 'cause Candlemass was actually a pretty successful band, while these guys are struggling away in the depths of South America...
The six sluggish songs on here, the first two sung in Spanish, the others in English, are straight up serious quality old school doom all right, heavily weighted with lumbering, fuzzed out riffs in ye olde Sabbathy style, but even sadder and slower, their grinding graced with deep, somber vocals (rising to a higher pitch at some choice moments), and some nicely gnarly guitar solos amidst the melody. And we're pleased to report that Condenados has thrown a little flute in here too, just to make the album even better (and proggier). Keyboards and samples are also used to atmospheric effect. But none of that wimps this out, at all, it's HEAVY, regally so. A track like "Centuries Of Darkness" sounds like a classic that true doom devotees should have already been (slowly) banging heads to for, well, centuries.
Highly recommended to fans of the likes of Candlemass, Warning, Reverend Bizarre, The Wizar'd, Procession... and something about "Welcome To My Grave" reminds us a bit of The Obsessed.
Record number two from these Virginia doomlords, a crushing collection of druggy, dirgey ultradoom, a lumbering sludge juggernaut, filthy distorted guitars, crushing drum pound, hellish shrieks, but something's changed this time around, cuz in addition to those harsh vokills, there's some serious vocalizing going on, that manages to nudge Cough's sound a little bit away from filthy crusty doomsludge toward something more classically doom, we're feeling a little Electric Wizard perhaps? The band dabbled a bit on their last record, but here those vocals are way up in the mix, still wreathed in reverb and delay, but the subtle groove of Cough's stonery sludge becomes much more pronounced with those vocals, which is not a bad thing at all, the band stumbling from pure grim downtuned plodding filth to swinging Sabbathy groove, even adding some surprisingly melodic guitar leads and lush swirls of spaced out effects which produces a sort of weirdly melodic sludgey space rock, which RULES.
But fear not, the band inevitably slip back into something sludgier, but not TOO sludgey, as those clean vocals seem to outnumber the harsh vocals pretty significantly. So if you're in the market for some total Eyehategod worship, you might be better served with the first Cough record, but if you're up for some slightly more melodic heaviness, this record should definitely do the trick.
Especially if you stick around for "Crooked Spine", which is ridiculously poppy, sounding a bit like a stoner sludge version of a Codeine track, a sort of druggier, sludgier slowcore, the vocals super poppy, maybe hinting at a more melodic Cough to come.
But again, all you have to do is hold on for a few more minutes, and the title track swoops in, and flattens you with its sheer malevolent crush, a lurching lumbering sludge EPIC, complete with a killer spaced out effects laden doomdirgedrone breakdown, and a final burst of skull crushing riffage.
These anarcho-punk legends are finally getting the deluxe reissue campaign they always deserved, but probably never really wanted anyway. Having spent the seventies and eighties kicking against the pricks, these DIY iconoclasts pretty much lived and breathed punk rock like few others since, making music, putting on gigs, setting up squats, coordinating political actions, starting a label, creating art, making films, advocating animal rights, environmentalism, feminism, direct action, anarchism, pacifism, criticizing various subcultures, encouraging dialogues, and encouraging participation and protest, and obviously, and perhaps most pertinent to this here review, making some of the most awesome punk records EVER.
These records sound impossibly and incredibly fresh, intense and dramatic and emotional, heavy and hooky, jagged and jittery, their ideals clearly on display, backed up by musical muscle, pop smarts, and some super original and innovative sounds and songs. The crazy thing, revisiting these records again, is how much they've influenced modern underground music, there are at least a handful of bands, who now with these records fresh in our ears, sound almost criminally beholden to Crass: Arctic Monkeys, The Fall, Louis XIV, Art Brut... the list goes on.
Legendary for a reason, all three of these records should be required listening for punks and metalheads and hell, anyone into underground sounds, and are totally worth revisiting, we had sort of forgotten how goddamn great all three of these records are, and even if you still own beat up original copies, there's enough extra stuff, music and artwork wise, that they're totally worth picking up again...
Feeding Of The 5000 was the group's incendiary debut, originally released in 1978, and almost didn't come out, as the pressing plant refused to carry it due to the lyrical content of the opening song, an intense spoken word rallying cry against religion, against God, filled with violent images and foul language, all over a field of buzzing feedback. They replaced the song with silence, in protest, and then and there decided to start their own label, which then re-released the record the way it was initially envisioned. And even now, 30+ years later, FOT5K is a fierce, frantic chunk of pure punk rock, wild chaotic angular guitars, wild scowling urgent vox, caffeinated drumming, samples and snippets of spoken word, all wound up into something frenzied and frenetic, heavy on the hooks, whether intentional or not, these songs manage to be angry and caustic and intense, but still catchy as hell, the lyrical vitriol reflected in the relentless punk rock energy, just a glorious collection on intense, emotional, swaggery, ramshackle, energetic, sweat soaked, pop flecked, PUNK, that has definitely remained as fresh, and as lyrically relevant as it was all the way back in 1978. Which speaks well of Crass, but not so well for the state of the world...
Included as bonus tracks are various live sessions and studio demos, some of which show another side of Crass, sounding almost like some sort of busking skiffle band, all shuffly and Billy Bragg-ish(!). The packaging is incredible, a gorgeous slipcover, which judging from the design is meant to join together with the other 5 reissues to form a single huge Crass logo, inside is a massive booklet with new liner notes from the band, all the lyrics, as well as photos and artwork, there's also a reproduction of the original insert, a fold out poster with the distinctive Crass artwork, a poster on one side, collages,and the lyrics as they were originally printed on the other.
These anarcho-punk legends are finally getting the deluxe reissue campaign they always deserved, but probably never really wanted anyway. Having spent the seventies and eighties kicking against the pricks, these DIY iconoclasts pretty much lived and breathed punk rock like few others since, making music, putting on gigs, setting up squats, coordinating political actions, starting a label, creating art, making films, advocating animal rights, environmentalism, feminism, direct action, anarchism, pacifism, criticizing various subcultures, encouraging dialogues, and encouraging participation and protest, and obviously, and perhaps most pertinent to this here review, making some of the most awesome punk records EVER.
These records sound impossibly and incredibly fresh, intense and dramatic and emotional, heavy and hooky, jagged and jittery, their ideals clearly on display, backed up by musical muscle, pop smarts, and some super original and innovative sounds and songs. The crazy thing, revisiting these records again, is how much they've influenced modern underground music, there are at least a handful of bands, who now with these records fresh in our ears, sound almost criminally beholden to Crass: Arctic Monkeys, The Fall, Louis XIV, Art Brut... the list goes on.
Legendary for a reason, all three of these records should be required listening for punks and metalheads and hell, anyone into underground sounds, and are totally worth revisiting, we had sort of forgotten how goddamn great all three of these records are, and even if you still own beat up original copies, there's enough extra stuff, music and artwork wise, that they're totally worth picking up again...
Penis Envy was record number three, released in 1981, and was a serious shift for the band, and easily their most polished and accomplished, but the changes were big, first, all the vocals are female this time around, and in keeping with this new more feminine vibe (or more likely it was all a single concept), the lyrical focus of Penis Envy, as is suggested by the title, is sexuality, specifically how it relates to women: feminism, marriage, sexual repression...
And the music, wow, the opening track sets the stage, a little flurry of synthy weirdness, the sound strangely proggy, it quickly launches into a super hooky minor key angular punk pop workout, the riffs woozy, the guitar sound crunchy, the drums powerful, the bass thick and low slung, and the vocals incredible, powerful and emotional, passionate and BAD ASS, spitting out some seriously intense lyrics, a wickedly sarcastic tale of feminine subjugation.
And so it goes, the whole record a fantastically and fully realized groove heavy punk rock blowout, that seems to sonically foreshadow the various post punk bands that would eventually cite Crass as an influence, lots of tension and release, horns, even harmoniums, plenty of drones, and intricate arrangements, bizarre vocal harmonies, super distorted buzz, some almost funkiness, some proto-electronica, that dub vibe in fell effect, choral voices, swooping backwards sounds, super strange, but really kick ass production, hard to believe this record is 30 years old, especially considering how many bands are making sounds just like this now, and probably don't realize, Crass were doing it decades ago, and doing it better.
One of the best stories about Penis Envy, is when the band somehow conned teenage girl's romance magazine to include Crass track on a giveaway flexi disc, credited to Creative Recording And Sound Services (yep, Crass), sonically on the surface, it was a sweetly innocuous pop song, but it was Crass after all so the subtext is much more damning, and needless to say, when the hoax was revealed there was a bit of an uproar. That track is included here, as is a collaged soundscape combining the original track with responses to the hoax, as well as an archival track and a rare 2003 remix.
The packaging is incredible, a gorgeous slipcover, which judging from the design is meant to join together with the other 5 reissues to form a single huge Crass logo, inside is a massive booklet with new liner notes from the band, all the lyrics, as well as photos and artwork, there's also a reproduction of the original insert, a fold out 6 panel foldout with that distinctive Crass artwork, the original blow up doll album cover, collages and graffiti and lyrics...
These anarcho-punk legends are finally getting the deluxe reissue campaign they always deserved, but probably never really wanted anyway. Having spent the seventies and eighties kicking against the pricks, these DIY iconoclasts pretty much lived and breathed punk rock like few others since, making music, putting on gigs, setting up squats, coordinating political actions, starting a label, creating art, making films, advocating animal rights, environmentalism, feminism, direct action, anarchism, pacifism, criticizing various subcultures, encouraging dialogues, and encouraging participation and protest, and obviously, and perhaps most pertinent to this here review, making some of the most awesome punk records EVER.
These records sound impossibly and incredibly fresh, intense and dramatic and emotional, heavy and hooky, jagged and jittery, their ideals clearly on display, backed up by musical muscle, pop smarts, and some super original and innovative sounds and songs. The crazy thing, revisiting these records again, is how much they've influenced modern underground music, there are at least a handful of bands, who now with these records fresh in our ears, sound almost criminally beholden to Crass: Arctic Monkeys, The Fall, Louis XIV, Art Brut... the list goes on.
Legendary for a reason, all three of these records should be required listening for punks and metalheads and hell, anyone into underground sounds, and are totally worth revisiting, we had sort of forgotten how goddamn great all three of these records are, and even if you still own beat up original copies, there's enough extra stuff, music and artwork wise, that they're totally worth picking up again...
Stations Of The Crass (another poke at the Catholic Church, just one of many) was record number two, and was released in 1979, and found the band's sound shifting pretty dramatically. Their lo-fi sound not so lo-fi at all, and it wasn't just the recording, the band sounded way more confident, the songs catchier and more complex, the vibe more new wavey in places, the root sound was the same, jagged sharp guitars, pounding frantic drumming, but the bass is way more of a presence, sometimes getting seriously woozy and new wavey, introducing some definite dub vibes throughout, like a leaner meaner Clash in places (although there's at least one fuck you shout out to the Clash), and the vox, even more intense this time around, anguished and super emotive, sometimes spoken in a super thick cockney accent, other times vitriolic yelp, and often breaking down into a super intense tortured howl. To these ears Stations was when Crass finally became a musical force to rival their already established political and punk rock force, the music powerful and more mature, heavy and hooky and more able to convey Crass' anger and disappointment and fury in the form of sound.
While the original Stations came accompanied by a collection of live tracks, those have been left off, and in their place, as bonus tracks, is a 1979 Peel Session.
The packaging is incredible, a gorgeous slipcover, which judging from the design is meant to join together with the other 5 reissues to form a single huge Crass logo, inside is a massive booklet with new liner notes from the band, all the lyrics, as well as photos and artwork, there's also a reproduction of the original insert, a fold out 6 panel foldout with the distinctive Crass artwork, collages and graffiti, and the lyrics as they were originally printed on the other.
The last album from Australia's Cut Copy, In Ghost Color, is without a doubt one of our most listened to pop records of the last several years. It proved to have such amazing legs and grew on us so much so that even when we look back at the initial review we wrote, we would change it to speak more to what a perfect offering of uplifting, ecstatic pop it truly is. Zonoscope keeps our full on love for Cut Copy going super strong, as this album further proves these guys as some of the most skilled and talented folks around at crafting infectious and memorable pop that sticks in your head and seeps into your skin like crazy!
They take the blueprints of the Hacienda sound (Happy Mondays, New Order, etc.) and flesh it out with such a crisp and focused delivery that definitely taps into what folks like M83 have been moving towards in recent years. With nods to OMD, Erasure, Tears For Fears, Pet Shop Boys, even Men At Work on "Take Me Over" and of course New Order, CC have found a way to merge the romantic and dance minded side of '80s pop music glory into a sound that is so totally modern and refreshing. You can also tell they have a HUGE appreciation for the dynamic epic/huge pop sound that folks like ELO, Queen, and Cheap Trick were carving out in the '70s and have figured out how to inject a modern sensibility into that classic pop prowess.
Listening to Cut Copy is like being shot up with a rush of adrenaline and endless energy. All you want to do is jump and dance and run and accomplish all the things you have your heart set on. Not many folks are able to truly inspire that reaction with their music. Zonoscope is proving to be the greatest pop record so far in 2011 and we have a feeling at the end of the year we will still be saying the same thing.
These last few months have finally seen the arrival of the most recent batch of Latitudes releases, some that had been in the pipeline for months, maybe even years, first Gang Gang Dance and Gowns, then Nadja and Mount Eerie, and most recently the Master Musician of Bukkake, and now finally, this sprawling avant hip hop doomscape from Dalek, who already pushes the boundaries with his proper releases, but this one takes it even further, a massive 44 minute untitled sonic sprawl, epic and abstract, dark and ominous, lush and majestic, a slow burning dubbed out bass heavy intro lays the groundwork. Warped and warbly, a shimmery downtempo creep, laced with distant melodies, buried vox, folky guitars, there's some rapping, more like spoken word, but it fades out quickly as the surrounding sounds blossom and expand into a dark swirling dronescape, bits of twang and garbled voices drift on a sea of hiss and hum, of muted melody and crumbling textures, and then things get serious, the sounds is cranked up, the low end thick, the rhythms industrial and grinding, almost like some sort of hip-hopped SUNNO))) / Godspeed hybrid, the vocals buried in the mix, before it all winds down again, and then in come the tablas (!), wrapped in weird backwards swoops and heaving slabs of low end rumble, building again, this time into a lumbering string laden machine like trudge, doomy and dark, almost like a more blissed out Gnaw Their Tongues, orchestral and epic, and after about 27 minutes, a proper hip hop beats swoops in, still wreathed in caustic buzz, and surrounded by all manner of fractures sounds and effects, and suddenly it's like the hardest heaviest hip hop you've never heard, super distorted and blown out, a crushing chunk of post apocalyptic robo funk lope, which eventually fades out, leaving just a long stretch of hushed shimmer, and tangled steel string melody, all blurred and smeared into a hazy expanse of ominous minimal drift, and one final verse, delivered ominously over the tense droning whir beneath. Fucking KILLER.
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES, the covers the immediately recognizable brown and white origami style Latitudes sleeves, this one with a black and silver cover image glued to the front, and a full color insert inside.
Recently we highlighted the new album from Puerto Rico's most epic doomy operatic metal band, Dantesco, Seven Years Of Battle. Simultaneously released with that, Stormspell has also brought out this raging disc of demos from their very first year of battle, back in 2004. They were as over the top and impressive then as they are now. Plus bonus tracks, including two more covers rather revealing of their obscure epic influences: "Queen In Black" originally by Swedish cult Sorcerer (whose album has recently been reissued, and we'll probably be listing soon!) and "Deliver Us From Evil" by the legendary Warlord, which by itself would be enough to get the true metal heads here at AQ to buy this, though we'd be buying it anyway since we're Dantesco fans already! For those, like us, who can't get enough of the EPIC! (Or the unintentional visual hilarity of this otherwise quite serious -sounding- band's band photos...)
As with other Stormspell releases, this is a limited, numbered edition...
For whatever reason, some of us never really paid much attention to these Puerto Rican garage rocking punks, and then suddenly, they're the next big thing, or maybe not even 'next', they ARE the big thing, hyped to high heaven, the big ticket at SXSW, everyone clamoring and singing their praises, we have to admit that just made us more skeptical, but we're happy to admit when we're wrong, and boy were we wrong, these guys rule. And this record is so killer, a dizzying mix of stripped down garage rock pound, super hooky jangle pop, droned out druggy shoegaze, a little Stooges, a little Stones, a little Jesus & Mary Chain, some old school punk rock, some reverbed sixties wall of sound Spector-ish pop, some modern garage rock, all tangled up into super strange, but undeniably classic and catchy sounding fuzzy, groovy, garage rock jangle pop. The production is strangely lo-fi, but suits D666's sound, the tracks shift gears constantly, rambunctious and punky one second, washed out and hypnotic the next, there are streaks of feedback all over the place, the sound slips from stripped down and buzzy to lush and layered and back again often in the same song, there are loads of killer hooks, lots of subtle psychedelic shadings, pounding blasts of punkish power pop that blossoms into totally classic old school power pop, and then into some snotty snarly fuzzy noise pop, and then some bouncy old school garage rock, and finally some fuzzy sixties style dream pop, all simple chords, sweet vocals, tambourines and hand claps. These guys definitely sound like they'd be a blast live, and it comes across loud and clear on record, and it definitely makes sense they're on In The Red, and odds are if you dig Thee Oh Sees and Ty Segall and the like, you'll probably love these guys too.
NB: Stick around for the hidden track, a short blast of cheesy, drum machine driven electro punk, with gang vocals, and eighties synths, and it sounds like a commercial. Pretty funny...
Amon Amarth, Deicide, Trap Them, Primordial, Ken Mode, Subrosa, Noisear, Drugs Of Faith, tons of reviews (including a long one of the new Burzum), funny columns, etc. And best of all, Mercyful Fate's Melissa in the Hall of Fame feature!
Wayne "Elektrokutioner" Sarantopoulos is everywhere these days. Encoffination, Wooden Stake (see elsewhere this list for their new 7"), Father Befouled (whom we really still need to review), Scaremaker, Tombstones, Festered... if you like your doom metal deathly and/or your death metal doomy, he's your man! Playing not just drums, but other instruments as well, and often writing the music too. Decrepitaph, under examination here, is another of his many blasphemous bands. It started off as a solo project, but these days is a duo, with David "Sinworm" Clark on vocals and guitars. Their third disc, Profane Doctrines Unburied, is chock full of Decrepitaph's usual dense dirty decompositions of chunking crunching death metal, utterly in keeping with the Razorback roster's revitalization of old skool '90s death metal style a la Asphyx, Obituary, Incantation, etc. This album takes thick, sick white noise trudge to epic extremes, especially on the nine minute plus finale, "The Crucifix Crumbles (A Decrepit Epitaph)". They go fast, and they go slow. In fact, "Mortified Spirits" contains what might be one of the most lethargic and lugubrious drum solos ever, that you could maybe still call a drum solo.
Elsewhere, it's a barrage of battery, hand in hand with relentless riffs that scrape and scrub with steel wool like fuzz buzz... plus putrid guttural vokill belchings buried beneath... and last but not least, eerie adornments of keyboard synths, played by Elektrokutioner, whom we should add has quite an extensive collection of sleeveless metal band logo t-shirts. His bald and bearded self is looking mean in a Sodom shirt in the cd booklet here, and glaring intensely in a Voivoid shirt on the Wooden Stake 7" sleeve.
Search back into the Aquarius archives, and you'll come across reviews of records that we loved with just a phrase or a sentence, giving a few choice references and adjectives. Oh, how the times have changed. Way back when, we summed up Der Plan's classic weirdo kraut new wave record with the following pithy statement: "A head on collision between the Residents and Conny Plank." Still very true to this day, although an expansion of that description is most definitely in order. Der Plan hailed from Dusseldorf, and Geri Reig was their first record, emerging in 1980 as a particularly bizarre version of the Neue Deutsche Welle (New German Wave) sound. It seemed that every single German punk and NDW band would twist and mutate some sickly sweet ballad into something monstrous and perverse. Even Neubauten did a cover of Serge Gainsbourg's "Je T'Aime" on their first record; but polkas, waltzes, and cabaret numbers seemed to the prime target for the venom, bile, and ill-thoughts of the youth from back in the day, and Der Plan had authored a good number of these cheeky tunes, with atonal blooping electronics, plinkety-plonk melodies, and disjointed scratchy vocalizations. As a result, the Residents are still an apt reference for most of Geri Reig, although perhaps the equally bizarre, although less known Die Todliche Doris should also be referenced as well. For all of Der Plan's weird disposition, they would also craft a percolatingly brilliant minimal wave track here and there, as heard in the man-machine sequencing on "Commerce Exterieur Mondial Sentimentale" and the future-shock arpeggiations of "Adrenalin Lasst Das Blut Kochen." A classic record from the NDW period, now available once again thanks to the fine folks at Medical Records!
Album number two by Der Plan came out originally in 1981, and it follows the art-pop quirkiness of the band's Geri Reig album with a slightly more conventional approach to their Neue Deutsche Welle songs. Just slightly, though. For the most part, the overt references to the vernacular of Germanic pop music (waltzes, polka, cabaret, etc.) are dropped for more of a primitive electro sound, with plenty of clipped rhythms, flanging electronic sequences, mutant funk anti-grooviness, and occasional vocoder-treated vocals. Der Plan takes delight in rendering each and every sound in a deliberate staccato choppiness, with electronic and vocal melodies often in naked opposition to each other, while the rhythms are loose skeletons that hardly anybody could dance to. The album features 17 tracks, and many more ideas running through all of those cuts, mucking up the streamlined new wave surfaces within disjointed, Residents inspired asynchronicity, and there's even a couple of early plunderphonic experiments popping up, such as "Kleine Schlager Revue" which mashes up saccharine German pop ditties with a smutty sex-recording lifted from some porno flexi-disc, and the grimmer "Wat's Dat?" snipping bits of commercials and breathy exhortations and melding them onto teletype synth modulations. Like Geri Reig, Normalette Surprise is back in print on vinyl... but probably not for long, as Medical Records only released 550 of these!
At the risk of slipping into hyperbole, which we do pretty much all the time anyway, so fuck it, the Posies were probably one of the best modern power pop bands EVER. Alongside Jellyfish and a few others, the Posies were one of the few bands who made record after record of nearly perfect pop, the Posies in particular crafting the sort of pop that we can never get enough of, heavy, crunchy, fuzzy, big guitars, killer harmonies, and hooks galore. If you're resistant to the idea, or for some crazy reason have never heard the Posies, take a second and go check out Frosting On The Beater, or Dear 23, or hell, almost any of their records. Ken Stringfellow and Jon Auer were one of those Lennon/McCartney caliber partnerships, their voices perfectly matched, their songwriting styles so complimentary, their collaborations resulting on some of our all time favorite songs and records.
They may still be a band, but for all intents and purposes, the band is over, and while both Stringfellow and Auer have made a handful of solo records, as well as playing with other bands, it wasn't until Stringfellow hooked up with some European rockers and formed the Disciplines, that anything post-Posies has even come close. The first Disciplines record came out with so little fanfare we almost missed it, but when we did finally hear it, we were blown away, it was like the next Posies record that never was, but somehow even more rocking and heavy.
So when this new record came out, we knew there would be some pop fans out there, who might have missed out on these guys completely, so here you go, Posies obsessives, stop reading now, and just buy this, you won't be sorry, everyone else, heck, you should probably do the same, but especially if you love big, crunchy power pop, buzzy guitars, pounding drums, with a bit of a punky edge, the Disciplines, are super rocking, heavy, hooky, with Stringfellow's distinctive vocals and knack for melody and harmony transforming what could otherwise have been something much less vibrant and special into something seriously AWESOME. Every song here, super catchy, with a sound that slips from soaring jangly power pop, to crunchy urgent punkish fuzz pop, a bunch of the songs dead ringers for Posies jams, and Lydia Lunch even guests on one track, with a snarly spoken word, but seriously, pop fiends, this stuff rules, and is probably gonna be one of our pop records of the year!
This nice new reissue - and first time reish on vinyl - just HAD to be Record Of The Week. Boy oh boy do we love this band. An old, old favorite - in more ways that one, since these guys hail from the '70s. When we first discovered them some years ago, via their track on the Love Peace & Poetry: Latin America compilation, and then got their reissued albums on import cd, we were like, why aren't they famous?? Well, perhaps they are, or at least were, in Mexico where they're from (they're called Los Dug Dug's on account of being from the city of Durango, in the Mexican state of Durango).
Los Dug Dug's are, for us, a perfect blend of rock n' roll things we love: garage rock, psych-pop, power-prog. Lotsa cowbell, fuzz guitar, and flute, yes flute (especially on their second album, Smog). Part Tull, part Beatles, part Kinks, part Kiss...pretty darn kick ass really.
This self-titled album was their first, from the magic musical year of 1971, though sounding very sixties, and features English language vocals. It includes some of our favorite Dug Dug's songs, including the brilliant "Lost In My World" (also heard on the Mexican installment of the Love Peace & Poetry compilation series). There's also the frantic fuzzfest "Let's Make It Now" (which also boasts a drum solo), the groovy jangle of "I Got The Feeling", the equally groovy "It's Over" (with a nice JB's style intro), the very Beatlesy "Going Home", the lovely, spaced out "Sometimes", and the flutey, fanciful "Who Would Look At Me?", among other great flower POWER tunes. And when we say great, we mean really great. As in, this album is all-time favorite stuff for those lucky enough be clued in. Sure there's lots of wonderful obscurities out there, but Los Dug Dug's are one of those bands, like Q65, or Flower Travellin' Band, who you'd be hearing all the time on classic rock radio if they'd come from Detroit instead of Durango.
Now, we love ALL the Dug Dug's albums, and are happy to tell you that Smog (1972) will soon be getting the same reissue treatment by Lion/Get On Down soon, we should have it in a few weeks, and it'll probably have to be a ROTW too. Hopefully they'll also be reissuing Los Dug Dug's other albums Cambia, Cambia (1974) and El Loco (1975) eventually as well, one of these days.
Like we said, we've listed this album (and those others by Los Dug Dug's) before, but it was always tough to keep enough of 'em in stock, they were Mexican imports and never reliably available, seemingly going in and out of print in quite random fashion. Hopefully this new version will be around longer, and remain easy to stock! Also, this is the very first time we've seen any Dug Dug's reissued on VINYL, yay, and they've done a fine job of it.
Meanwhile, the new compact disc edition comes packaged in a nice, plastic protected miniature lp style sleeve, complete with obi strip... unfortunately beyond the brief blurb on the obi, there's no liner notes for this reissue, which is too bad 'cause we'd like to know more about this band who should be much better known north of the border. The obi alludes to the band's "failed trip to NYC" where they were hoping for their big break, that didn't work out but then they went back to Mexico and recorded this album, starting a sterling career regardless. We'd like to know more... according to Wikipedia, apparently they had some problems with the musician's union in New York, but upon their return to Mexico, bringing with them the music of the Beatles, they became one of the country's biggest rock acts, leaders in the new youth culture there. So it's unfortunate that some knowledgeable liner notes couldn't have been arranged, we're sure the Dug Dug's story is a fascinating one, but at least in all other respects the packaging is top-notch (though it would have been nice to have the tracklist someplace other than just on the obi, like on the back cover the way it is with the vinyl). In any case, it's the music that matters, and regarding that the obi has all the facts: "must have"... "essential".
A quick four song follow up ep to the I Will Be full length that was a huge hit around here, and if anything, He Gets Me High is even better. The production is lush and polished, and the songs, best yet we think. "Wrong Feels Right" has a brooding bass heavy intro with dense tribal toms, that reminds us of Icicle Works actually, before launching into something more shimmery and reverby and jangly, hooks galore, and a lush, heavy, almost shoegazey chorus, not to mention some gorgeous hazy lead guitar. "He Gets Me High" then ups the ante, super crunchy distorted guitar, a groovy garagey stomp, all beneath lush multitracked vocals, everything still reverby, but here the guitars make it sounds like Spacemen 3 or something, a pretty bad ass combo or sure.
"Take Care Of My Baby" is a smoldering ballad, and sounds more like the DDG of old, the guitars wreathed in thick reverb, the vocals smokey and sultry, the sound like some sixties girl group B side, minor key and moody, and another to-die-for hook and an oh so classic chorus. And as if that wasn't enough, they cover the Smiths' "There is A Light That Never Goes Out", and they own it, sounding a bit like a meaner Best Coast, the song is obviously fantastic already, but the Dum Dum Girls makeover turns it into something even more intense, the verses so broody and dark, but then that chorus, soaring and catchy and so perfect.
We've been playing these songs to death, over and over, mix tape manna for sure, and most definitely has us chomping at the bit for a new full length!
A gorgeous new batch of hazy transcendental keyboard dronemusic from this SF based one man band, once a member of Mi Ami and Black Eyes, although you'd never know it from these two sprawling minimalist explorations.
Unlike the propulsive almost krautrock-ish murk of his first tape, Waves is more a sort of barely moving, lush layered lysergic new age, the sort of keyboard kosmische that folks into Emeralds and Expo 70 should go nuts for. The melodies are subtle, the movements muted, the various tones and overtones float and hover and wash into one another like, well, waves. There's definitely a Niblock vibe too, but filtered through a more modern lo-fi space drone floorcore aesthetic. The A side for all its spaciness and dreaminess is also thick, and in its own way heavy the sounds raw, and a little abrasive, it's mesmerizing and ambient, but also intense.
The B side however is WAY more ethereal and ephemeral, those same waves of sound are now more monochromatic, pulsing in slow motion, woozy swells of muddy melody that mask a barely there propulsion, the track seems to fade and crumble, before finally switching gears as a distant melodic hum, the backdrop to a mysterious set of field recordings, a warm whirring bed for a soft swirling clouds of Philip Jeck like click and hiss. Nice.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!! We have less than a dozen, and once these are gone then that's it...
Latest from these Portland psych rockers, their first for new label Thrill jockey, which is where they now call home, alongside their pals, SF dronerockers Barn Owl.
For Beyond The 4th Door, these guys haven't really changed their MO all that much, but then as they say, why fix what ain't broke? The opener is a sprawling smoldering psychedelic drift, all minimal stripped down drums, effected guitar, processed vox, deep low end buzz, and helicopter like thrum, the sound twangy and sun baked, almost like they're taking a page from label mates Barn Owl, the same sort of deserty drift, but ET augment their drift with strange effects, whirring synths, culminating in a thick buzzing denouement, before slipping right back into a slowly fading outro.
That track bleeds right into the next, another chunk of psychedelic smolder, this time the guitars more distorted, a sound that reminds us of Flower Travellin' Band actually, like those wailing vox could swoop in at any second. Instead, the song unfurls, a mesmerizing chunk of hypo psychedelia, which again blurs right into the next track, a hazy slow burner, all tangled psych guitars, and shuffling skeletal rhythms, and finally on this one, the band get heavy (not crazy heavy, but heaviER), there's some sax here too, but it almost sounds just like another guitar, the band unleashing loose softly chaotic squalls of dueling guitars/sax, the whole thing hazy and druggy and pretty excellent, the sort of modern shit that should moss definitely appeal to all the Japrock obsessives who worship at the alter of Les Rallizes.
The record finishes with two sprawling epics, "Reflections In A Mirage", a droney, twangy, stretch of minimal, spacious shuffle, vocals return, to chant, and moan ominously, while the guitars warble and buzz, all tangled an spidery, draped over swirls of shimmery drone, the song never explodes or climaxes, which only makes it cooler, the instruments gradually blurring together and finally coalescing into a closing stretch of layered drone. The comes "Time Winds Through A Glass, Clearly", topping out at 12 minutes, beginning like some strange sort of country jam, loping low slung bass, and twangy reverbed guitars, soon sizzling clouds of cymbal shimmer drift overhead, the saxophone returns and skronks off in the distance, the song drifts and lopes and meanders, slowly picking up steam, but staying mostly restrained, until the last few minutes, where the band do let loose again, the drums pounding, the guitars distorted, wild streaks of psychedelic leads everywhere, a serious sonic squall, but only briefly, before things quickly settle back down and the track unwinds in a soft psychedelic haze. Great stuff. And refreshing that they managed to avoid the ubiquitous soft/loud, slow build, explosive ending thing that seems to be the way most bands do psychedelic space rock, instead, each song was a expansive sprawling epics that were both hypnotic and heavy, mesmerizing and mysterious�
It's been a little while since we've heard anything new from Justin Wright and his interplanetary sonic soundship Expo 70, and technically this isn't a proper new record, instead this is two live sets captured on tour in 2009, when Expo 70 were in New York, two 30+ minute sets of hazy, swirly, ambient kosmische drift.
The first set, from Ithaca, begins with a wild squall of lead guitar, and sod crowd sounds, before the duo (featuring Matt Hill of Umberto!) get down to business, unfurling a hazy sprawl of tangled melodies, and softly pulsing guitar, a lush backdrop for some seriously soaring psychedelic leads, all washed out and lysergic, like some classic Santana jam stretched way out and hurled into space, the whole thing gradually getting more and more intense and distorted and aggressive, the bass throbbing, the guitar howling, a churning heavy crescendo that quickly dissipates into a super ethereal stretch of ambient shimmer, warm clouds of muted effects and softly swirling electronics, gradually fading into nothingness.
The Manhattan show begins with some hazy crystalline drift, soft clouds of warm guitar drifting over the top, laced with little curlicues of effects, and slow drifting slabs of melodic whir, this track is way more sci-fi, edging into Umberto territory, getting all soundtracky and cinematic, lots of swooping electronic bleeps and bloops, all over some super minimal dubbed out percussion, the second half of the set way more low slung and slithery, deep cavernous bass, distant rumbles, soft streaks of synth, lots of softly swirling layers, slipping through clouds of spaced out electronics, and then a long stretch of almost choral liturgical sounding organs, all droned out and meditative, growing ever more hazy and indistinct. So nice.
We're definitely dying for a proper new full length, but these two chunks of primo sci-fi psychedelic kraut drone drift will definitely hold us over for now!
Super nice packaging, a glossy six panel digipaks with various images from the 2009 tour, from whence these recordings came.
One of two new modern Chilean psychedelic outfits on this week's list, both on Sacred Bones, and both sharing a member, unlike the spaced out psychedelic of The Holydrug Couple, Follakzoid traffic in a sound much more krautrocky, two ten minute side long jams, totally mesmerizing blissed out, cyclical, circular hypnorock, the drums and guitars locked into a super tranced out groove, while all around, strange vocals and voices swirl and swoop, effects shimmer and glimmer and other guitars jangle and chime, the sound changes subtly, stripped down and skeletal one minute, crunchy and distorted the next, but that hypnotic core riff remains locked tight, the sort of thing that should have fans of Circle and Lumerians and Cave and White Hills and 3 Leafs and Mugstar all freaked out.
The flipside starts out much more minimally, a sprawl of effects drenched warble, warped melodies draped over a lumbering beat, less a rhythm and more a pulse, all washed out and muted and muddy and bleary and blurry, before launching into another stretch of super hypnotic krautrock chug and churn, but this time, the sound is way more minimal, the main riff sounding more like the throb of a helicopters spinning blades, whump whump whump, wreathed in softly swirling synths, laced with chanted vocals, all wound into a super tight chunk of super muted sci-fi krautrock psychedelic space rock, that RULES.
Another amazing batch of dreamy psych-folk unearthed from the dregs of obscurity by the Sunbeam label, this lone album by Mark Fry from 1972, recorded while still a teenager, has it all. Songs about witches, a girl named Alice, lutes and flutes and mandolins, sitars, a song that unravels each verse between other songs, and even a song played entirely backwards. With a soft voice similar to Roger Rodier, whose lone album was also reissued on Sunbeam (which we also raved about!), we had only heard of Mark Fry previously through his contribution (a sadly truncated three minute version of the eight minute long "Mandolin Man") to the British edition of the Love Peace and Poetry psych compilation. Recorded in Rome and only limitedly released in Italy, it soon faded into the ether, and Fry turned to his other love, painting, in which he has had a more successful career. This reissue features two additional bonus tracks from 1975, and boasts liner notes from Fry himself telling the fascinating story of the making of this album, and beyond. Thanks Sunbeam for making this amazing album available to us again! Absolutely Recommended!!
When we first heard The Go! Team way back in 2004, with their debut Thunder, Lightning, Strike, like most folks we were pretty blown away, a wild rambunctious double Dutch sampledelic hip hop/ electro pop like nothing we had heard. Fun and funky, energetic and original, and totally kick ass, and while we didn't love the follow up quite as much, this new one totally knocked our socks off. The first track alone "T.O.R.N.A.D.O." was all it took, a two minute blast of girl gang, horn heavy, block rockin beats, a looped sample of an Antibalas jam is the anchor for this avalanche of thump funk, neighborhood party blow out groove, surprisingly dark and ominous, with brass that sounds like it was lifted from Fleetwood Mac's Tusk, all wrapped around a thick funky rhythm, peppered with squalls of scratching, everything chopped and stuttery, and ultra funky and dramatic, super intense and so RULING, but then the next song is a total about face, WAY more poppy, all bouncy rhythms, fuzzy organs, sunshiney and almost Bossa Nova sounding, more like Stereolab or Deerhoof, and it's that opening one two punch that gets played out across the whole record, a dizzying collection of genre flipping hybrids, sunshine pop meets garage rock crunch meets hip hop groove meets electro dance party and pretty much every and any stop in-between, shades of Stereolab and Deerhoof and Puffy Ami Yumi and Shonen Knife and Dee-lite and Salt & Pepa and so much more, all sliced and diced and cobbled together into some seriously fun, funky girl group hip hop garage rock electro pop blowouts, it's about as feel-good as a record can get and still kick ass. Lots of guests pop up too, yet again reflecting the group's all-over-the-map sound, including Deerhoof's Satomi Matsuzaki and Best Coast's Bethany Cosentino. So good!
Album number six from the Portland post rock instrumentalists, and they continue to get better and better, barely even a rock band any more really, instead they're essentially modern composers, creating epic cinematic soundscapes, occasionally disguised as rock songs. All it takes is about 2 minutes of the opening track on Deep Politics to once again demonstrate that these guys have moved way beyond simple rock band-isms. A dark ambient drift, deep swells, swoonsome strings, chugging muted riffs, all woven into the sound of a rain swept late night abandoned city street, then of course in comes the twangy Morricone-ish guitars, and then more strings unfurling Middle Eastern melodies, it's like Morricone meets the Sun City Girls but gone all post rocky, the song shifting back into a loping groove, laced with almost funky wah guitar, and some cool spidery psychedelic guitar leads, and finally an explosive, super distorted coda. A lot to jam into a single song, but it doesn't sound overly proggy, or super intricate, the balance is somehow exactly right. The second track unleashes a sprawl of reverbed piano and skittery drumming, all woven into a Barry Adamson style soundtrack for some imaginary film, replete with choir like vocals, minimal guitar twang, and a seriously explosive and epic 'chorus'.
And while somehow these songs all hang together, sonically, Deep Politics is all over the map, the thing holding it together more a vibe or a feel than a particular sound. Synths buzz and thrum, flutes flutter, a downtempo beats holds it all together, all spare and dubbed out, haunting and ominous, multi tracked strings become string sections and soar dramatically over drums and piano, a sort of post rock chamber music, sounding almost like the score to some European art film, melodies unwind dramatically, blues dirges becomes almost psychedelic drones, rhythms drag and crawl, skitter and shuffle, guitars and pianos, organs and basses unleash thick swaths of minor key buzz, of chordal thrum.
"Almost Grew My Hair" might be THEE jam here, heavy and spacey and psychedelic, beginning with strummed steel string guitars, distorted psychedelic buzz, big drums, all distorted and washed out, wild tangles of melody, deep bass, all wrapped around some seriously kick ass almost proggy drumming, super hypnotic and rhythmic, until the second half of the song, when things get even more proggy, sounding like classic rock and Yes and Supertramp, epic and intricate, with grandiose blasts of almost orchestral rockisms, more choir like vox, all wreathed in a sort of ominous haze. Ruling!
The final two tracks are more of the same yet not at all similar, the first is minimal, all electronic pulses, and strange industrial whirs, a sort of piano flecked sci-fi dub, a super dramatic slow build, and then a strangly drum heavy super pro almost total Miami Vice / John Carpenter style eighties soundtrack jam, which quickly subsides into a gorgeous bit of hazy droney murk. And THEN, delicate steel string guitar drifts on a sea of warm droning swells, before pianos and drums swoop in for a bit of churn and crunch, only to fade right back out again, leaving adrift bit of ethereal folk, only to have the song splinter about halfway through into a seriously math groove, rife with Eastern melodies, intricate drumming, and some super rad distorted guitar, the whole thing super dynamic, stop/start, eventually stopping for good, leaving the just swirls of acoustic guitar strum, lush layered drones, and some delicate piano, slowing and dreamily fading out. Awesome!
Considering how quick Grouper stuff blows out of here, this one most likely doesn't need too much of a description. Divide is the first book of original artwork from Liz Harris (aka Grouper), black and white, and super striking, intricate branch like patterns, washed out water colors, tangled knots, mysterious patterned mandalas, crystalline arrangements of lines and space, a style most aQ-ers will recognize from various Grouper releases. The softcover book measures 7" by 7", and has beautiful full color front and back covers, and includes a dvd, featuring an original video by Harris, accompanied by a gorgeous Grouper soundtrack (featuring Rob Fisk from Common Eider, King Eider on viola), and as you might expect, it's another fantastic dreamlike sonic drift, all warm whirling otherworldly haze and gauzy ethereal shimmer. So nice.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, we have less than 10, and most likely will NOT be able to get more...
Tim Hecker might be one of THEE most referenced artists on the aQ website. Whenever we need to describe something fuzzy and gauzy and washed out and blurred and bleary, smeared and shimmery, woozy and mesmerizingly dreamlike, we tend to always look to Hecker, whose gorgeous crumbling otherworldly soundscapes manages to transcend their constituent parts. When listening to Tim Hecker, it's practically impossible to hear samples, or instruments, or anything really, other than the amazing organic soundworld that Hecker has created, the constituent parts rendered wholly unrecognizable, instead, they are layers, or colors, or pieces of the new whole, a sound that's transformative and transcendent, evocative as always of other times, and other places, lost worlds, lost loves and forgotten memories, conjuring up many of the same emotions as folks like Leyland Kirby and Indignant Senility. But whereas those folks' sounds are distinctly old fashioned, the sound of Hecker's music is timeless. It does of course have elements of a forgotten past, in its crumbling decayed sound quality, and washed out ethereal ambience, but it also manages to be melodic, and active, and alive it its own way. It has energy, and vitality, as if some bit of glowing modern sound, was left in a corner to collect dust, and fade a bit, before being rediscovered, brushed off, only to find it's glow, while not diminished, has definitely been altered by the passage of time. Like the most magical of musics, Hecker's is hard to describe, and even harder to imagine how it was created, even if we know the instrumentation, whatever arcane sonic alchemy Hecker employs makes even that knowledge useless in trying to understand how his music works. But then, like magic, not knowing how it works is part of the joy of experiencing these sounds, it's as if they were created from the elements, conjured up from the spirit world, beamed in from another dimension, it's not knowing, or understanding, but feeling, and experiencing, and enjoying, letting the music work its magic, and transport you to whatever imaginary other world they were intended to invoke.
With every Hecker record, we seem to proclaim, 'best one yet!' and it looks like we'll have to again with Ravedeath, 1972, recorded in a church in Iceland, and with a pipe organ as its main instrument, augmented by synthesizer, piano, microphone and feedback, this is the richest and most lush Hecker record yet, not just atmospheric, but emotional and infused with a definite pathos, even moreso, than on past records.
The record opens with a super corrosive bit of blurred ambience, the sound decaying and crumbling, the melodies pulsing and undulating just below the surface, a gorgeous balance between warm melodic drift, and caustic psychedelic haze, but woven together, they create something impossibly gorgeous.
From there on out, the sound and the songs sprawl and shimmer, epic expanses of warm whirring melodies, of lush layered ever shifting textures, the organ, while not always distinctly organ like, does lend the sound a certain choral gravitas, that makes all the sounds here darkly cinematic, the score for some lost art film, all deep shadows and strange shapes, of empty streets and abandoned cities, it's almost like the sound of Super 8 film if that film had 'a sound', all the lens flares, and warm distorted flutter, the fuzzy out of focus over saturated colors, all translated into sound, a sound that slips deftly from murky and moody and muted to blown out and sun blasted, from under water woozy melodic thrum, to super crunchy distorted buzz, to music box like tinkle to epic almost liturgical majesty, the whole record, so perfectly and uniquely Tim Hecker, again the reason we refer to him so often, when describing the often futile attempts of others trying to evoke sounds this powerful and moving, fuzzy, gauzy, washed out, blurred, bleary, smeared, shimmery, woozy, mesmerizing, dreamlike, crumbling, otherworldly, and so utterly and breathtakingly gorgeous.
We dug up an old review we wrote for another Hecker record, where we managed to describe Hecker's sound about as perfectly as we'll probably ever be able to, and reading it over again now, it applies to Ravedeath as much as any of Hecker's other records:
"Imagine the most beautiful music in the world. Then with an old thrift store camera, take a super grainy snapshot of that music. Fold up the photo and place it in an envelope and mail it to an address that no longer exists. 20 years later, happen upon an old abandoned post office, and discover that letter unopened, but browned with age, remove the photo and place it in your pocket. Lose those pants on a camping trip, only to discover them the next summer, all wadded up in a corner, sprinkled with a years worth of dust and cobwebs. Wash the pants, and only afterwards discover the photo. Prop in up in the window of the cabin to dry, where it sits soaking up the sun for the whole summer. Right before you leave, grab the photo of the most beautiful music in the world and place it in your book to mark your place. Place the book back on your shelf and forget all about it. Move several times over the course of the next several years, finally unpacking a dusty old trunk filled with books. Leaf through several of them, when suddenly the most beautiful music in the world flutters to the floor, dusty and tattered, worn and nearly transparent. Finally, tear it up into tiny pieces and drop them one by one into the speaker of an antique Victrola, wind it up and what comes out will be the music of Tim Hecker."
Easily his best yet, and one of our new favorite records, and for sure, a contender for record of the year, even just a little over a month in...
Pacific Fog Dreams is the latest missive of abstract droned out psychedelia from Higuma, the duo of Evan Caminiti (of Barn Owl) and Lisa McGee, a logical extension of Caminiti's twang drone doom folk soundscaping in Barn Owl, Higuma finds Caminiti and McGee crafting epic, roiling expanses of smoldering slow burn shimmer and hushed apocalyptic minimalism, heaving sheets of distorted sound swirl like black clouds in a grey sky, lit from within by a distant sun, that glow a constant source of deep divine melody, each track an ancient ritual depicted in sound, a journey from some deep lost other world to some future unknowable self, the various instruments woven into undulating sonic tapestries, McGee's reverbed disembodied voice a glowing thread running throughout, the sound shifting from shoegazey to hazy, warm and whispery to dark and droney, occasionally erupting into gouts of grinding super distorted psychedelic effulgence, the vocals following right along soaring into the stratosphere, a keening high end melody held aloft by the burnished blackened guitar thrum.
Elsewhere, the guitars hover and drift, a swirling hum, a spectral presence, the various melodies blurred and smeared into the background, becoming a strange prismatic ever shifting landscape of chordal fragments, each like the ghost of some lost song, soon to be swallowed up by a wave of crumbling corrosive buzz, a strangely melodious bit of SUNNO))) blasted crush, the edges smoothed, the grit worn away, leaving a thick undulating swell of bleary, blissed out shimmer, laced with tendrils of steel string buzz, and wreathed in garlands of whir and blur and rumble.
The final movement begins as steel grey streaks of chordal corrosion peel away, leaving nothing but swirling shadows and barely there billows of echo drenched drone, before blossoming into a strum laden slow build, a sea of sympathetic vibrations and lush overtones, keening high end shimmers off in the distance, and a dense melodic center, pulsing, the melody threatening to break free, but held in check by swaths of whirling buzz, the various sounds slowly loosing their bonds, and becoming one, the colors running together, creating a dark black buzz, that trails off into the night sky.
So gorgeous. Beautiful packaging too, and of course, LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!
One of two new modern Chilean psychedelic outfits on this week's list, both on Sacred Bones, and both sharing a member, The Holydrug couple is a duo who traffic in spaced out, hazy, druggy, cosmic jams, laid back and lysergic, a little bit stonery and sun baked, the sound lush and layered, a definite raga vibe, totally cosmic and pretty heavy, and definitely heady, minimal vocals, the crux of these tracks filled up with hypnotic, krautpsych JAMS, the drums solid and propulsive, the guitars swirling and swooping, soaring and wailing, plenty of effects, the whole of side A, a single extended jam that pulses and jangles, chimes and crunches, like Los Natas meets Pink Floyd maybe, gradually growing more and more spaced out mellow, before finally, slipping into a swirl of shimmery droned out ambience.
The B side is two shorter tracks, the first a crunchy chunk of garage-y groove, even more stonery than the flipside, all Hawkwind, Monster Magnet, Kyuss, Earthless psych space jam bliss, the second half a total heart of the sun blowout. The second track (and the shortest of all three), is also the mellowest and dreamiest, all washed out jangle, melodic shimmer, shuffling drums and hazy sweetly sung vox, the perfect psychedelic wind down / chill out coda...
Thurston Moore and Byron Coley curated the quizzically named series Center Of The Ass Run in the mid-'90s, packaging a handful of obscurant freeform experimentalists in pre-fab LP sleeves and a sticker annotating which Ass Run this might be. They looked purposefully lowbrow, but within always lurked stellar explorations of avant-noise, no-wave jazz excursions, and splattered electronics, with Id Battery's 1997 release Unique Ancient Tavern fitting nicely within this batch of releases. Id Battery was an early project for Brandon Labelle and long-time aQ-favorite Loren Chasse, who began this project well before anything Jewelled Antler. Much of this material harkens back to their earliest collaborations, when Chasse was found behind a drumkit and Labelle was on bass. While they soon moved beyond this guise into the more well-known explorations of sound through found objects, contact microphone probings, and rebroadcasting sounds in unconventional settings, the bass/drum Id Battery arrangements were more in keeping with garbled lo-fi murk that was coming out of New Zealand at the time (e.g. Dead C, Birchville Cat Motel, Doramaar, A Handful Of Dust) with falling-down-the-stairs drum clatter and atonal thwacking on the bass with plenty of choking atmospherics filling in the gaps. Chasse and Labelle spliced these grimy improvisational recordings with thrumming drones of equally lo-fi quality as various looping techniques amassing the sounds into deep bellows, pocked with skittering texture and corroded noises.
These are the last pieces of vinyl kicking around from the Center Of The Ass Run series, as a small stash was uncovered in a vault somewhere in Massachusetts. Don't expect these to be around for long!
Rajko Muller, aka Isolee, has been one of the leading forces in smart and infectious microhouse over the last decade. His ability to merge dance floor ready beats with nuanced production has made Isolee popular with both club kids and more heady avant types. Well, Spent Youth, is the long awaited follow up to We Are Monster, and Isolee sound as precise, icy and sexy as ever. With menacing and moody undertones, Isolee unleash minimal dancefloor grooves that radiate with repetition and restraint. We thought that Kompakt would be all over Isolee by now, as they really have perfected the sound that label has become synonymous with over the years. Phenomenally chilling!
It's always a challenge to meld electronic and organic sounds. When done correctly, it can be sublime, an otherworldly fusion of seemingly diametrically opposed musics, an impossible hybrid that on rare occasions can most definitely transcend its constituent parts. When done incorrectly, it can sound flat and forced. Or can simply not work at all. Most egregiously, the enduring 'electronica flecked folk' that we do on occasion love, but which in most cases is simply pedestrian strum and croon peppered with glitch and buzz and somehow presented as avant.
But this, this is something else entirely, an unlikely fusion of acoustic percussion, electronic studio production, various bits of programming and processing, and most importantly, recordings of actual Kenyan folk music, vocalists, traditional string instruments, all woven seamlessly into Kacirek's subtle sublime productions. It definitely makes more sense once you realize Kacirek is in fact a virtuoso jazz drummer and percussionist, thus the rhythmic focus of The Kenya Sessions, but that background in drumming hardly prepares us for this, a heady, propulsive, effusive, dark and mysterious bout of electronic folk music. And minus the voices, it's practically impossible to discern the Kenyan field recordings from the studio productions, there are moments of skittery Kompakt-like techno shuffle, but just as often, it Kacirek playing Marimba, or playing on a snare with brushes, and wrapping those sounds around the buzz of some African stringed instrument, or taking the various rhythms and weaving them into a lush, pulsing backdrop for some lovely vocalizing, the results are incredible, and range from the dark, buzzing and brooding opening track, "Arsenal Aluny Village", which almost sounds like a super minimal African Portishead, to the twangy shuffle of "Old Man Small Studio", the electronics dialed way back, but the marimba and tuned percussive melodies adding a distinctly Western pop element to the more traditional sounding vocals, or the murky almost Oval-esque shimmer of "Dear Anastasia", the backdrop smokey and sultry, the melodies dark and minor key, but then the vocals again transform the song into something completely original and very much unlike anything you've ever heard.
Imagine your favorite Sublime Frequencies compilation, or one of the Ethiopiques collections, if they were released on Kompakt, or imagine How To Dress Well composing a chill out soundtrack for late night Kenyan clublife, there aren't any 'beats' proper, instead the rhythms pulse and throb, shimmer and shuffle, skitter and stutter, usually super subtle, as textural as they are rhythmic, tangled up with pianos and marimbas, and then the Kenyan recordings, traditional instruments, twang and buzz, and those vocals, soulful and emotional, sometimes call and response, other times moody and crooned, and the sounds while often electronic, borderline 'techno' sounding even, just as often, veer toward something else entirely, more concerned with evoking a mood, creating a gorgeous ambient space, one that often explodes into something rhythmic and propulsive, but just as often slips into something hushed, and minimal, mysterious and lovely.
The record finishes off with the amazing "Takaye Preaching", which does indeed seem to be some preacher preaching, whose almost song like sermonizing, is accompanied by some perfectly matched up rhythmic flurries, skittery muted grooves and shuffling percussion, the rapidfire vocal delivery somehow softened by Kacireks's instrumental accompaniment, the result sounding like some moody jazzy drift wrapped around a hyper hip hop flow, but again, once the two elements are melded, it's hard to imagine that this was constructed in a studio, and not some sort of unlikely jam session, which is pretty much the magic of the whole record. A fantastically unique sonic document, a sort of avant world electronica, or minimal electro Kenyan soul, or maybe downtempo electro worldmusic, whatever you wanna call it, we're loving it, and odds are you will too.
Released in 1976, Logan's Run remains one of the coolest and most fantastically stylized sc-fi cult classics EVER. If you haven't seen it, go rent it now, you won't be sorry. It's the tale of a future world that is all about hedonistic pleasure, free love, recreational drug use, routine plastic surgery, random sexual encounters, the only hitch is that when you turn 30, you go through a ceremonial slaughter. Each citizen has a small jewel implanted in the palm of their hand, and when 30 comes it begins to blink. Logan's Run concerns a certain guard, who gleefully hunts down runners, people who decide to try and escape their fate, and drag them back for execution, until he falls in love, and begins to question the system, even moreso when his jewel begins to blink, and thus he decides to run. Outside the city, they discover a ruined Washington D.C. overgrown with plants, a post apocalyptic wasteland, and, well, without giving more away, it's trippy and psychedelic and totally cheesy and over the top. The set design is classic seventies futurism, lots of neon, and crystals, and sparkly clothing, and the holographic entertainment is outrageous and again super cheesy, the ladies are beautiful and are dressed in wild futuristic gowns (Farrah Fawcett plays the plastic surgeon's assistant, and is appropriately seventies hott), and there's a robot that they meet in an ice cave, and okay, if you haven't decided to rent it already, we're not sure what's wrong with you! Needless to say, a tripped out psychedelic vision of the future like this needed a similarly futuristic psychedelic soundtrack, which it did indeed get, courtesy of Jerry Goldsmith, and the whole thing (and then some) is reproduced here. And what with the current craze of sonically worshipping John Carpenter and Goblin and that whole retro-futuristic thing going on, it seemed like the perfect time for people who were maybe not even born at the time to get a load of THIS, which sounds in many ways like what lots of folks know are doing.
Sure it's symphonic, it is a score after all, but there's lots of sci-fi / electronic weirdness, in fact the whole soundtrack starts with a pulsing bit of buzzing synth, before slipping into some soaring strings, but then it's right back to some creepy spaced out ambience, all bleeps and bloops, electronic squiggles and alien melodies, and the whole score sort of slips back and forth, from traditional orchestral score, to avant freaked out psychedelic electronics, often melding the two brilliantly.
"Flameout" is all analog synths, and twisted effects, super cheesy and eighties, but also ominous and mysterious, Theremin like melodies, electronic rhythms, atonal cascades of 8 bit analog crunch. "Fatal Games" begins with some sort of processed electronic rhythm, pulsing, motorik, before strange liquid ambience oozes into the picture, and suddenly it sounds like some sort of lo-fi analog alien electro. And so it goes, strings soar and shimmer, electronics buzz and warble, synths whir and thrum, some tracks are goofy and over the top, others are ominous and intense with wild Bernard Hermann like string stabs, while others are super jagged and atonal and dramatic, and still others are swoonsome and melodic.
Such a great movie, and such a great soundtrack. Released on the same label that gave us The 5000 Fingers Of Dr. T ( a recent Record Of The Week) and the killer Klute / All The Presidents Men soundtrack, which means, like those, the presentation is elaborate, with a huge booklet, rife with amazing liner notes, pictures, production stills, photos, not to mention super detailed notes on each track, describing the track itself, and then what's going on in the movie while said track plays. Wow.
If you're anything like us, all it will take is three simple words to convince you that you need this: FLUTE. FINLAND. NINETEEN SEVENTY ONE. Okay, so that last one's not really a single word, but yes, this fantastic chunk of Finnish Flute heavy jazz folk was indeed released in that musically mindblowing year, and is pretty much everything you could hope for from a seventies Finnish flautist, it's groovy, jazzy, folky, a little bit rocking and a lot bit pretty goddamn weird. Just take the opening track, after some field recordings of seagulls and lapping waves on the shore, Loiri whistles along to some simply strummed acoustic guitar, and suddenly you realize it's essentially a jazzed up cover of Blind Faith's "Can't Find My Way Home", hand drums and flutes swing in, some deep wordless "la la" vocalizing and then it's back to the waves and birds. Definitely an odd way to start a record, but these guys are Finnish after all.
The rest of the record is not so obviously strange (or is it?), the second track is some groovy flute driven folk, the flute playing is stellar, woozy stand up bass, intricate hand drumming and more steel string strum, there's some bluesy psychedelic guitar leads, and then there's a drum solo, accompanied by humming (or is that kazoo), and then it's right back into it, Loiri often singing and vocalizing through the flute (a la Roland Kirk), which makes it even more far out.
The record shifts gears constantly, the next track begins playful sing songy lullaby, suddenly transforming into some sort of gypsy folk music the next, what sounds like a drunken tavern sing along, and then it's right back to the lullaby like fluttery flute of the opening, and then a strange old field recording of a carnival or circus. All a single track. The next track is more straight ahead jazz, some incredible flute playing and amazing drumming, the next track too, sounding almost Latin Jazz, but then along comes "Mummon Kaappikello" a groovy bit of big band jazz, backing up some sped up chipmunk vocals, turning the otherwise trade jazz into something totally warped, and then it's right back into it, some seriously swinging seventies jazz funk, and still more kick ass flute.
The final three tracks are more folky jazzy grooviness, some serious strum heavy drum driven rhythmic jazz, gives way to some jazzy cabaret, with deep crooned dramatic vocals, and finally finishing off with a brief bit of folky flute and acoustic guitar that returns to the opening bit of Blind Faith. Wow. Awesome, and bizarre and amazing and easily one of the coolest things Porter has dug up. And again: FINLAND. FLUTE. 1971.
Eye popping pop art cover with a big foldout poster, both depicting Loiri in aviator's helmet and goggles, with a painted on bright yellow and red bullseye shirt and little angle's wings!
Witchy doomy heaviness from Rhode Island, home of ultra avant doom heavies The Body, electro rockers Six Finger Satellite, spastic hyper noiserock duo Lightning Bolt, and hardcore legends Dropdead, among others, but female fronted doom rockers Loon have way more in common with the current crop of heavies like Jex Thoth, The Devil's Blood, Sub Rosa, Blood Ceremony, Cauchemar, Christian Mistress and Purple Rhinestone Eagle, and fans of any of those bands will definitely dig Loon's stonery psychedelic grooves, and pop flecked Sabbathy doominess, but Loon definitely have their own take on that sounds, beyond the doom aspect, which is really pretty minimal, sure it IS doomy, but it's way more groovy, there's also a serious slowcore vibe going on, a downer pop woven into the group's more metallic heaviness, which ends up reminding us of a way heavier more traditionally metal True Widow, which is totally NOT a bad thing. And then there's the vocals, which are amazing, slipping from demonic screech, to sweet melodious croon, powerful and intense, and often reminding us of country chanteuse Neko Case surprisingly enough. So if you can imagine Neko Case singing for a Sabbathy doomy downer pop stoner metal combo, well then, you might have an idea of what Loon has going on. And while the vocals might be the best we of the bunch, in terms of actually singing, the songs are pretty fantastic too, spacey and psychedelic, groovy and heavy, a little bit proggy, super hooky, with just enough pop, the guitar sound buzzy and crunchy, the drums powerful, the whole sound hooky and heavy, doomy and sort of dreamy at the same time.
After a gorgeous hazy bit of psychedelic acoustic guitar, the record finishes with the nearly 10 minute "Grackel" which is the perfect Loon track, mixing all the various elements, the Neko Case like vocals (sounding surprisingly twangy here!), the shrieked demonic howls, the groovy Sabbathy riffage, the super melodic poppiness, the dirgey slowcore, all culminating in a woozy washed out feedback drenched spacey psychedelic outro, that could have (and probably SHOULD have) gone on for ANOTHER 10 minutes. Definitely a new favorite. Anyone into ANY of the above mentioned bands should for sure check this out.
The packaging is incredible too. The vinyl is black and green swirled, and is housed in an elaborate silkscreened fold out cover, green and metallic gold, a skeletal soldier wreathed in flowers, beneath the groups's tendril-y root-like logo, includes several inserts and a download code!
