Hails to Hells Headbangers, the label is on a roll lately, bringing us long-awaited new releases by two of the most outre of AQ metal faves: Ominous Doctrines Of The Perpetual Mystical Macrocosm by black metal aberrations Inquisition (Record Of The Week last list) and this, the more simply titled Stoned, from psychedelic doomsters Acid Witch! It's their 2nd full-length, after the now out of print debut Witchtanic Hellucinations we cackled over a couple of years back. Once more, Shagrat and Slasher Dave (minus Finnish friend Lasse Pyykko, who wasn't actually the main guy in the band as it turns out) have stirred up a bubbling cauldron of tripped out, horror-loving metal that draws upon their love of old school death metal, doom, fright flicks, and drugs! They say it best themselves: "Metal, punk, comic books, and horror vhs / Nothing else to live for so you might as well obsess / Discovering books of power on the arcane and occult / Eating psilocybin leaves you feeling quite possessed" (lyrics from their song "Stoned To The Grave"). Now, we're not gonna say if we condone that lifestyle or not, but we sure do like the sick, slightly tongue in cheek music that results!! And if you can appreciate a song title like "Metal Movie Marijuana Massacre Meltdown", then you'll probably like this album and band. THAT song features another verse we've just got to quote: "Seen these movies so many times / Turn off the volume cause I know all the lines / So fucking high, just let the stereo play / But only if it's Lizzy Borden or Fastway." Sheer poetry to our ears. However, Acid Witch themselves sound a lot more underground than those '80s metal bands they mention, the Hellhammer poster and Bulldozer t-shirt in the band photo represent more likely '80s inspirations.
So, if you've heard their debut, you what to expect. After an intro of Goblin-y keyboards and looped samples, the album kicks into metallic gear with track two, "Witchfynder Finder", a song about turning the tables on Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder General. It's a catchy juggernaut, sounding not unlike Cathedral or Electric Wizard (or Pykko's band Hooded Menace) riding Hawkwind's "Silver Machine". One of the many killer cuts here with skull caving riffery and fuzzed out guitars. Those Goblin-y keys return later on the eerie "Whispers In The Dark" and elsewhere... while in "Live Forever" the keyboards take on more of a Deep Purplish hue! All in all, a heavy, rockin', horror show of guttural vokills, '70s Sabbathry, and spooky-ooky atmospheres.
Their favorite holiday is obviously Halloween. October is a long way off but if you like Halloween too, Acid Witch have a treat for you right now. Buy this along with that Wooden Stake / Blizaro split also highlighted this week, and your inner psych doom freak monster will be well fed.
The Golden Hour originally came out on Mississippi Records, a fantastic disc of improvised solo guitar from a Portland based guitarist named Marisa Anderson. We dug it so much, we had her perform like at aQ a couple days ago, and WOW. Not only was she super cool, but seeing her play live was even more impressive, and got us newly obsessed with the record. And while she was here, she also left us some cds of The Golden Hour, which she released herself. And if for some reason you've yet to hear it, do yourself a favor and pick one up! You won't be sorry. Here's what we had to say about The Golden Hour when we first reviewed the lp (which is why the intro is about Mississippi, even though the cd is self released, but it's relevant, really!):
We usually hate when reissue labels put out something contemporary, often it's some modern band that's making music in a similar vein, even more often it's a friend of the label, done out of obligation, and in both cases, most of the time, said release sticks out like a sore thumb. There are exceptions, and labels with great taste, can be trusted to make exceptions when they're called for. And Mississippi is definitely on of those labels we implicitly trust. In the past, they've peppered their mind blowing catalog of killer reissues with records by Spooky Dance Band (post Reeks And The Wrecks), PDX punk rockers Sad Horse, longtime aQ fave Mirah, and now a Portland based guitarist named Marisa Anderson.
Anderson plays guitar and lap steel, and offers up a dozen gorgeous tracks of her own particular brand of Appalachia, from the noisy, reverbed, chaotic and crunchy, almost psychedelic sounding "Drop Down", to the more traditionally folky "The Night Before Last", her playing is fluid and emotional, dexterous and original, channeling the spirits of the past (Fahey, Kottke, etc.) but infusing them with the spirit of today, and her own soul and feeling, and the results are indeed really quite nice. So lovely, sun dappled back porch guitar music, with the occasional foray into something a bit darker and stormier, WAY recommended. And you can now add Anderson to the elite roll call of Post-Fahey guitar gods (and now GODDESSES!) along side James Blackshaw, Jack Rose, Richard Bishop, Ilyas Ahmed, Matt Baldwin, and the rest.
Here comes the sizzle! We have been totally seduced by this steamy, dubby delight of a record, which pairs the detached, sexy & haunting vocals of Anika with the production and musical mastermind of Geoff Barrow from Beak and Portishead. Together they make a perfect match in creating a hypnotic, sensual sound that invokes in the listener a dangerously dazed and drugged out state of mind. Anika's vocals are like Nico's, but paired with a stripped down post-punk sound. Or like Kim Gordon singing for The Slits. The music is so spot on in its classic minimalism transporting us right back to the early '80s, bands like ESG, Gang Of Four, and A Certain Ratio, but Anika and Barrow turn the sound into something much more detached, smoky and sensual. We also hear a hints of French cold-wave pioneers, like Ruth, and the way underrated dubbed out project of This Heat's Charles Bullen, Lifetones.
For all the records that have come out in the last couple years desperately trying to capture a cold wave, or now witch house sound, Anika stands well above that crowded scene as there is something so much more impactful and singular about her vision, that's just so entrancing and mesmerizing....
Beach Fossils are proving their great debut was no fluke. This eight song follow up actually ups the ante on their songwriting and introduces a more breezy, warm and '80s influenced sound. With spring officially here (even though it doesn't feel like it), we know that summer is just around the corner and we can't think of a record we're going to be more excited to be blasting all season long. These are the kind of songs for those drives to the beach with the windows down and the breeze and the sunshine. Reminding us a bit of some of our favorite mid '80s underground pop bands like Eleven Pond, and For Against with hints of the more languid moments of '90s indie rock, tapping into the same sort of sonic energy as the Pains Of Being Pure At Heart. We even start imagining Pavement doing covers of The Smiths. What A Pleasure is indeed such a pleasure to listen to, in the way that it's so instantly familiar sounding yet with a freshness and depth that make it so new and exciting, demonstrating once again that they really are one of the best pop bands around right now.
Chris Madak is the man behind the Bee Mask, a project with several dozen cassette releases issued over the past couple of years. Madak should also be noted as the principle behind the exceptionally curated Deception Island tape label, which had the foresight to release Oneohtrix Point Never's Betrayed In The Octagon as well as a handful of killer Emeralds related side projects. That said, not much from Bee Mask's own discography has made it through here, with blister popping electrical noise and synth sequencing seeming to be par for the course. Yet through those circuit bent experiments, Bee Mask emerges fully evolved as a master synthesist of all things elekronische and kosmische circa 1975. Canzoni Dal Laboratorio Del Silenzio Cosmico is a wonderfully varied album whose hallucinatory narratives speak to a purposeful and thoroughly intelligent design in its creation. Throughout you'll hear distinct references to the likes of Roland Kayn, Tangerine Dream (e.g. Electronic Meditations), Jean-Claude Eloy, Francoise Bayle, anything from Sky Records you could think of in the mid to late '70s, and even the more bombastic electronic interludes offered by Pink Floyd for that matter. The album opens in a more studied fashion through a sequence of carillion bell tones backmasked with a series of soft vocal grunts and gradually building set of electronic percolations, but all of this is engulfed in a tidal wave of polydactyl synth sequencing and brainfried electronic percolations only to morph again into a cavernous expanse of elongated tone and drone. The album's numerous detours and labyrinthine structures twist and devolve constantly across both sides of the record, delving into melodic phrasing in the electronic sequences only to shift deftly into plunging electrical vibrations of pulsing synth noise and delirious crescendos popping throughout.
The fact that John Elliott of Emeralds has brought this to vinyl after a release on Gift Tapes a while back should not go unnoticed. Spectrum Spools is his new imprint, released through Editions Mego, and this should be a label not to be missed. Certainly not this release, that's for sure.
There are certain sounds we can just never get enough of. Belong have always trafficked in one of those sounds, a blurred, bleary washed out droney, druggy drift, everything hazy and gauzy and pixelated, crumbling melodies, slow shifting textures, like old pop songs broadcast through broken transistor radios, or alien transmissions distorted by millions of miles of space and millions of years, every song some sort of dizzyingly smeared blown out, hushed and haunting dronescape, all thrum and shimmer, rumble and whir. It's a sound practiced by others for sure, but there is most definitely a pantheon, a royalty of sorts, and alongside Tim Hecker, Philip Jeck and few others, so too do sit Belong.
It's been maybe 5 years since their last proper full length, the gloriously abstract and distorted loveliness that was October Language, and since then, they've released a single 4 song ep, a record of covers, but of course utterly transformed, the very poppiness of the originals buried underneath layer upon layer of murk and grim and buzz and crunch, and again all stretched and blurred and smeared into these fantastical miniature epics, these avant pop flecked drones, warm and whirling and completely mesmerizing.
Looking back now, listening to Common Era, Belong's brand new full length, it's easy to say, that those covers were already hinting at a sonic shift, a move toward something more traditionally pop, a gradual approach to something more structured, more overtly pop, but the 'pop' of those songs is WAY removed from the pop found here, for Common Era has taken all that fantastic shoegaziness and shimmery ambience, and wrapped it around real and proper pop songs. Simple propulsive percussion, minimal guitar jangle, swaths of swirling keyboards, hushed breathy vox, everything reverbed and echoey and washed out, a sort of eighties style new wave minimal pop, but of course in the hands of Belong, it becomes something more ethereal, ghostly, ephemeral, druggy and dreamy.
Imagine My Bloody Valentine crossed with Tim Hecker crossed with Felt, maybe stir in some of Ariel Pink's idiosyncratic faux FM radio pop, and that's these perfect abstract, minimal chunks of lilting jangle, often buried in billowing clouds of warm swirling FX and softly distorted shimmer, but just as often, with much of the noisiness peeled back, leaving just some pure pop, and even then, it's muted and muddied, like it's being broadcast from some rift in time, a sort of blurred transmission from the past, pretty fantastic. Some of the tracks get downright spacey too, a sort of kraut flecked hypnorock, the takes the minimal repetitive psych of groups like Moon Duo or Wooden Shjips, and slathers on tons more echo and reverb, wreaths everything in blurred synth swirls, and fuzzy low end pulses, and lets the songs just sort of ooze and drift and hover, gradually becoming less and less pop, and more loose and abstract and woozy and washed out and dreamy. But ALL the tracks on Common Era never fully give up the pop. For all the droniness, and the minimal FX drenched soundscapery, this is essentially a gorgeous, albeit, strange and mysterious, pop record.
The funny thing is, since these guys are on Kranky, and their last few records were more minimal and droney and avant, this record will essentially be considered art, a sort of high brow minimalist pop music, or some sort of dronepop, and so, of course, all the folks who love everything Kranky, will no doubt dig this like crazy, as they should. But had this been a super limited cd-r, or been released on Not Not Fun or maybe Olde English Spelling Bee, this would be hailed as THEE lysergic lo-fi minimal bedroom pop jam of the year. WHICH IT IS. Too. In fact, Belong have managed to somehow make a record that's both a strange druggy lo-fi pop record, and a super abstract avant bit of poppy droney prettiness. And we LOVE it.
They had us at Blackwolfgoat, pretty much! We had to check it out. And it lives up to the name, in fact, surpasses it, 'cause that moniker, while suggestive of darkness and evil, is just a bit silly too, ain't it? Silly isn't how we'd describe Blackwolfgoat's droned-out heavy psych guitar hypnosis, though. Somnambulant, spacey, sinister, solitary, but not silly. Still we like the name. Also, this comes to us via the reliable stoner rock label Small Stone, a good mark of quality heaviness. And this is stoner all right, but not quite rock, falling on the more abstract and experimental, drone-dirgery side of things than Small Stone's usual fare, the shadowy psychedelic nature of this music coming closest to the label's left-fielders like Tia Carrera and Los Natas, but with a vibe that's blacker, bleaker, yet still beautiful.
The half dozen tracks here, almost all built up of looping layers of blown out guitar grind, are what sound like minimalist one-man-and-amp instrumentals, playing riffs so slow and sludgey and slidey that they're often more like waves of distortion sometimes adorned with electronic feedbacky blips... it's not just swampy, it's SwampTHINGy. It's like this Blackwolfgoat guy (we're assuming it's a guy) is just jamming out, doing his thing that maybe you too, if you're a guitar player could do, but are you? No. And maybe you shoulda. 'Cause it's pretty cool. But do you share this psychedelic hermit's black void vision?
There's enough variety across these six tracks to keep it interesting, if you're in danger of utterly nodding off then wham, what about the primitive percussive "Aspirin Forever", with crinkly noise and clanky beats, a brief interlude of weirdly rhythmic, out of nowhere WTF?-ness that threw us for a loop (or loops). That's followed by the lovely album ender "Hotel Anhedonia", a super relaxed, druggy, jangly (if something this thick can jangle), kinda poppy, mantric meandering 10+ minute solo, the cleanest guitar on here so far, as the track slowly fades out and Blackwolfgoat rides off into the the glowing sunset.
Reminds us of / possibly influenced by, the likes of Earth, SUNNO))), Barn Owl, Boris, Sleep, Davis Redford Triad, Ulaan Khol.... but (we'll repeat) especially Earth, particularly circa Phase III: Thrones And Dominions, or the Hendrix-worship of parts of Pentastar: In The Style Of Demons.
Oh, and we just checked the credits, it IS just one guy, who furthermore recorded all "songs/sounds" on this album live in the studio, with no overdubs at all.
The first thing you notice is the super stylized metal logo, hard to tell exactly what it says, the first word is definitely probably 'blood', but the second is a jumbled tangle, looks like wall, BLOOD WALL? Or maybe Valet? BLOOD VALET? Or BLOOD VALE? Had we not known we most definitely would never have guessed BLOODY WALLET. What an amazing / ridiculous name. But as we listen to these guys, their fierce metallic crunch and sledgehammer pummel, the name starts to seem way more ominous, we're imaging some gruesome crime scene, bloody hand prints on the wall, sheet covered corpses, and in the corner an open wallet, cash spilled out, stuck in the center of a dried pool of crimson. Suddenly starts to seem like a pretty bad ass name for a metal band huh? Okay, maybe, but while some could perhaps argue with the name Bloody Wallet, now metalhead worth their salt could argue with the kick ass racket these guys lay down, it's heavy, melodic, mathy, the vibe is mostly classic metal, a little Champs for sure, but with definitely black metal shadings, the raspy hellish vokills, the churning riffage, the occasional furious blast beats, but then there's the mathy arrangements, the harmonies, the swooshing flanger effects, it's like a blackened hybrid of Iron Maiden and the Fucking Champs maybe? However you describe it, if you're in the market for some serious mostly instrumental metallic heaviness, that manages to be both brutal and melodic, classic and black, mathy and murky, with riffs that will stick in your (metal) head like crazy, duck under the crime scene tape, throw on some rubber gloves and pluck that Bloody Wallet from the floor, wipe off the blood (or not) and dig in. AWESOME.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES. Super sweet hand screened covers, designed by City Surgical (whose Gray Panic cd-r we also raved about on the list a while back).
One of two new lps from Northwestern blackdrone heavies Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, one a split, one a collaboration.
Unlike the split (with Wicked King Wicker), Skeletal Coupla Remains finds BSBC teaming up and collaborating, and what makes that idea even more interesting is that it's with none other than dadaist soundscaper and long time Nurse With Wound collaborator Matt Waldron, aka Irr. App. (Ext.). Seems like a strange pairing, but only until you actual hear what these guys can pull off together.
Unclear if they actually jammed together, or worked in the studio, or if BSBC just sent Waldron sounds to fuck with, but however they did it, the results are pretty fantastic.
Waldron has transformed BSBC's black noise into something way more tripped out and surreal, there's still plenty of buzz and rumble, grinding low end and roiling black ambience, but there are also swooping sound effects, warped production, tinkling melodies, sounds flipped backwards, layered and then pulled apart, huge chunks of heaviness, gradually transforming into weird bits of rhythmic churn, epic swaths of pulsating synths, all spaced out and almost krauty, looped voices, twisted samples, cinematic and creepy, it's almost like some black drone Nurse With Wound, and shit, if that doesn't sound good to you, then we have no idea what would.
The B side is a single sidelong dronedoomjam, that slips from hushed minimal drift to chugging SUNN-like riffage, all tangled up with spacey synth squiggles, bleating horns, warped FX, interrupted briefly by a stretch of near silence, laced with a series of field recordings, crunches and creaks, footsteps, and some monstrous gurgling growls underneath it all.
Super cool black and white jackets, with a massive fold out poster of the same artwork, as well as a printed insert with original artwork by Waldron.
One of two new lps from Northwestern blackdrone heavies Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, one a split, one a collaboration.
The split is almost too perfect, teaming up BSBC with what is essentially the East coast equivalent, Wicked King Wicker, a one man doom combo who definitely traffic in a similar sort of blackened industrial droned out doom, in fact, some folks could very well have trouble telling who was who. Not us!
Blue Sabbath Black Cheer start things off with a sidelong slab of caustic black drone, a heaving slab of brutalist industrial buzz, dense, and black hole heavy, the sounds blown out, the distortion crumbling and decaying before our very ears, it's classic BSBC, that is until the surprise of the second half, where all the heaviness is pulled back, revealing a sprawl of super abstract minimal drift, a muted stretch of creepy ambience, all processed voices, heavy chunks of buzz, the sound of foot steps, distant creaks, orchestral bursts, and lots and lots of space, almost like some strange tape experiment. But somehow it sounds logical coming after that initial black blast.
Wicked King Wicker counter with their own chunk of blackened buzz, super distorted, all rumbling low end, flecked with a weird metronomic pulse, strange heavily effected voices, buried melodies, effects everywhere, almost less like doooooom and more like some sort of metalized and Merzbowized modern minimalist drone music, the sounds layered and constantly shifting, creating overtones, and fragmented bits of melody. A little bit industrial, a little bit metal, a lot drone, HEAVY, and blackened, and finally near the end, the buzzed out drone seems to coalesce into churning sludgy riffage.
Super nice screen printed covers, with a printed insert.
Originally released as an ultra limited cassette, Texas Blues Working now gets a pretty substantial upgrade, a massive super deluxe double lp version, with a 21 minute bonus track!
Unlike many of Carter's solo records, that tend toward the super hushed and minimal, Texas Blues Working is surprisingly lush, a much more sonically expansive bit of dreamlike psychedelia, her vocals multitracked and layered, the harmonies ethereal and haunting, the guitars spidery and serpentine, the overall sound ghostly and wreathed in otherworldly echo, the songs super hypnotic, cyclical and mesmerizing, often thick with reverb and delay, but sometimes spare and whispery. But even the sparest tracks seem to gradually spiral into something more lush, especially the vocals, which slip from dreamy and intimate to soaring and powerful.
"The Other Planet" sounds like some strange mix of liturgical hymn, traditional folk, and lo-fi lysergic psychedelic, her voice slipping into Kate Bush like trills, the reverby atmosphere especially thick, the guitars buzzy and bluesy. "Bird's Nest" pushes the vocals way up in the mix and adds some truly strange almost alien sounding electric guitar, the result, haunting and druggy and beautifully weird. "Dinner Plate Of Dust" is another one where Carter's angelic vocals are paired with some warped guitar buzz, the two disparate elements somehow woven into something lovely and otherworldly.
The bonus track, a 21 minute epic called "Lady Friend", harkens back to some of her other solo records, just vocals and guitar, the guitar playing atonal and Jandekian, here vocals rich and emotional, a little bit raspy, the melodies underneath skeletal and angular, a haunting bit of abstract blues, so dark and lovely.
SUPER LIMITED, already sold out at the label. Pressed on ultra thick virgin vinyl, and housed in a gorgeous heavy gatefold sleeve.
**MISSISSIPPI RECORDS ALERT** MISSISSIPPI RECORDS ALERT** MISSISSIPPI RECORDS ALERT**
Another lost seminal punk rock classic, this one from DC's Chalk Circle, an all female punk rock band (supposedly the first to record and perform in DC), who existed for a couple years in the early eighties, and played alongside the usual DC suspects, but were definitely doing their own thing, challenging the prevailing sound and gender scene politics of the day. With a sound that would fit sonically alongside groups like the Slits, Delta 5, Lilliput, Raincoats, X-Ray Spex, Essential Logic and the like, Chalk Circle combined punk rock crunch with teenage energy, raw and urgent, frantic and frenetic, loose and ramshackle, but with some killer hooks, not so much 'punk rock' as indie pop / garage pop, this stuff would have been right at home on K Records or Kill Rock Stars in the early days.
The sound varies quite a bit (as does the recording quality), from bouncy almost danceable jangle punk, to reverby new wave, fuzzy pop-punk pound to primitive off kilter pop, bass heavy almost dubby post punk to spidery skeletal pop minimalism, laced with occasional bits of extra percussion, shouted back up vox, all held together by a super distinctive style and sound, which has us thinking there are a whole bunch of folks out there that would have loved these ladies back in the day, and anyone into the current crop of female punks: Brilliant Colors, Grass Widow, Pens, Yellow Fever, Sandwitches, etc. will probably dig this like crazy!
This lp collection gathers up various tracks from compilations, live shows, demos and unreleased tapes, and includes a big booklet with photos, press clippings and liner notes by Don Fleming (Velvet Monkeys, B.A.L.L.) whose Velvet Monkeys headlined Chalk Circle's first shows.
The return of high concept ambient dronescapers Chord, a sort-of side project of post metal heavies Pelican. Chord, as their name implies, only ever play a single chord, each track a different one, this time around it's EbMaj9, Gm11 and D6. Sounds boring, but it really isn't, in fact probably most drone outfits play one chord their whole career, but this, this is something more, with each member contributing a note, the notes forming a chord, and all of them playing different instruments, different tempos and timbres, the guitars shimmer warmly, the piano (?), swirls and drifts in a sea of hazy reverb, there seems to be some burbling bass too, it's all woven into something lush and dreamy, hypnotic and mesmerizing.
When we reviewed the first Chord album, we pointed out that we had come up with the idea of a 'chord' band on our April Fool's list way back when, with SUNNO))), Earth and Boris each tackling one of the notes, to make a mighty E chord. We still like to think that's where they got the idea. We also mentioned the late great Physics, a San Diego supergroup who always played a C, long spaced out jams, with multiple guitar players, always C. But as we mentioned before, Chord is a much more thoughtful project, definitely on the nerdy side of the spectrum, I mean, they made a song called "EbMaj9", and the group is as much about concept for the players as it is about the sound, but whatever the inspiration, the resulting soundscapes play out like our favorite guitardrone records. Smoldering slow burning expanses of deep layered thrum, hazy, washed out drifts of abstract choral blur. Whereas the other record occasionally built into Sunroof!-worthy squalls, Progression seems to be much more minimal, hushed and restrained, the only deviation is near the end of the epic 40 minute "Gm11", where things get full on heavy, a crushing avalanche of crumbling, superdistorted, blur and buzz, before slipping into the final track, a surprising bit of twang flecked folkiness, wreathed in a hazy buzz, and underpinned by some FX shimmer, but otherwise, sun dappled and dreamy, and for the record, all in the chord of D6.
And speaking of single chords, the most recent Austerity Program, besides being an awesome record, did something similar, in that they only ever used one chord, for the whole record, the band was appalled that no one noticed, but it just goes to show you what someone can do with a single chord, making more with less, a concept that Chord also embody, especially considering their sound has most definitely blossomed into something much more than just a quirky concept. Really great. And WAY recommended for fans of Fear Falls Burning, Final, R.Y.N., Elm, RST, Vulture Club and other practitioners of guitardronedrift.
And just to make things totally confusing, the cd and the lp are TOTALLY different. Progressions is a single collection of songs spread out over both formats, so the record starts on the cd, and continues on the lp, the music on each exclusive to that format. So if you do want ALL of Progression, you have to buy both, although most folks would probably be fine with one or the other.
A sort of companion to Cohen's recent Magic Trick solo full length on Captured Tracks, which was less a solo record, and more of a new band record, that new band being his 'Magic Trick' who also back him up here, on this double 7", and like the full length, the sound is definitely closely related to that of his other band the Fresh & Onlys, a gorgeous collection of lush mini pop epics, that range from classic jangle, to woozy balladry, reverb drenched countryish twang to fuzzy indie jangle, bouncy, hazy folky strum to gloomy post punk pop. And the thing is, whatever Cohen and crew decide to do, somehow it works, and sounds amazing, Cohen's deft popsmithery is pretty much unrivalled these days, with a release schedule that by all rights should have made us sick to death, but instead, we can barely get enough, every new record, a new collection of perfect(ly imperfect) pop, that will remain stuck in our heads until the next batch.
There are lots of highlights here, the raspy voiced, shimmery strummy drift of "Delicate Creatures", the Johnny Cash-esque, swaggery twang flecked shuffle of "Doctor, Doctor", the gloomy new wave-y brooder "Purpose In Life", and the sixties dream folk jangle of "Rock Bottom"... Like we said, it's all good, and even still we find ourselves, hankering for more. Luckily we probably won't be waiting long...
We at first balked at getting this 1993 recording by the great Sun Ra disciple Phil Cohran, because (and this just may be our own particular bias) more often than not we find that great and vital jazz artists from the sixties and seventies rarely stay quite as vital as time goes on. Or perhaps it's not the artist, but the technology of instruments and recording production as well as the aging and general mellowing of the culture that seem to give the music a less fresh vibe in our minds. But we were surprisingly blown away by African Skies, a live performance at the Adler Planetarium in Chicago as a memorial tribute to Cohran's former mentor and friend who had just passed away.
Ranking up there with the best of Cohran's recordings, African Skies is a beautiful cosmic jazz masterpiece utilizing mostly acoustic instruments such as harps, flutes, upright bass, francophone, bowed piccolo bass, and trumpet with some occasional ensemble and solo vocals. Looking at the back cover, this performance looks amazing too, with performers in traditional African garb playing these amazing large harps under a surrounding backdrop of projected galaxies. The pieces are minimally arranged with hypnotic rhythms and blithe flourishes. Occasionally a plaintive trumpet makes its presence known, or a woman vocalises soulfully, but it's really all about the fluidity of the sonic undertow that is vibrantly repetitive, and elusively graceful. Cohran doesn't try to mimic Sun Ra, but to emphasize the strongest qualities that he took away from the master: Beauty, Majesty and Reverence. Highest Recommendation!
The work of the woman who was without a doubt one of the most smoking soul sisters to come out of the James Brown camp, this 1974 album finally gets the new vinyl reissue it deserves. With 'The Minister Of New New Super Heavy Funk' Mr. James Brown on board as producer, Check Me Out If You Don't Know Me By Now shows off the fiery hot vocals of Lyn Collins, with the undisputed cream of the crop of funk and soul players backing her up. With burners like "Rock Me Again & Again & Again & Again", poppy nuggets like "Mr. Big Stuff" and emotionally rich tracks like "Put It On The Line", this is an album that displays Collins' amazing range all the while keeping an authentic core that rings so strongly through each of these songs.
An absolute must have for fans of Betty Davis, Betty Harris, Marva Whitney and the rest, and it seems likely that modern day folks who are keeping it real like Sharon Jones & The Dapkings have listened to this album a LOT. So damn good.
Now that the Profound Lore label has released this Chicago-based metal band's fourth full-length, we think more people are gonna start paying attention to 'em. We know WE are. Though we thought we knew what they sounded like before, we were blown away by this. Note we said "metal" band, and didn't qualify that in any way. Didn't say black, thrash, doom, true, etc. That's 'cause Dawnbringer are sorta ALL those things. Well, they used to have a lot more black metal aspects, death metal too, as we remember. But through a process of experimentation it seems they've arrived at THIS sound, a perfection, a distillation, a PURE metal sound that is traditional... yet advanced and yes, still experimental.
On Nucleus, Dawnbringer bring it, all right. They can be triumphantly shredding in speed metal glory, or NWOBHM-ishly rockin' ("Swing Hard"), or thrashy ("The Devil" approaches black metal velocities), and then slow, sad and majestic... sometimes all within the same song. And SONG is the operative word, as is singing, the versatile vocals often approximating the melodic gruffness of Lemmy, or James Hetfield, sounding tough, yet vulnerable... so Dawnbringer have their Motorhead and Metallica sounding moments, also musically reminding us of Maiden and other old school metal greats. Another reference point would have to be Hammers Of Misfortune, if you stripped away most of Hammers' prog elements and exposed the metal core.
'Tis utter headbanging heaviness, inspiring "invisible orange" style air-grabbing for sure, but not without neo-classical artistry as well. Impressive as hell, especially considering it's mostly the work of one man, Dawnbringer being masterminded by multi-instrumentalist (and singer) Chris "Professor" Black, a former member of psychedelic black metal act Nachtmystium, also drummer for power metallers Pharaoh and the genius behind NWOBHM worshippers High Spirits (whose demos cd we HAVE to review here soon!).
We really can't get enough of the dark, cinematic soundscapes conjured by so many of the artists on such likeminded labels as Type (UK) and Miasmah (Norway). This new release on Type by Norwegian duo Deaf Center (cellist Erik K. Skodvin and pianist Otto A. Totland) is our current fave, it's just their second full-length in six years, as clearly it takes time to craft music this moody and gorgeous, this time around produced in a proper studio, in Berlin, on analog equipment for maximum fidelity. Also the two members of Deaf Center have been busy with their own, individual projects - Skodvin, for one, is the man behind another AQ fave, Svarte Greiner, plus he also runs the Miasmah label! And if you like the "acoustic doom" of Svarte Greiner, you should also appreciate Deaf Center's evocative combination of modern classical, ambient, and electronic strains on Owl Splinters.
Atmospheric opener "Divided" sets the mood, all abstract, monastic moan and droning string-scrape, hushed and floating. Then "Time Spent" introduces sparse melody, played on pensive, pretty piano, alone in the dark. Third track "New Beginning (Tidal Darkness)" is one of subtle crackle and glitch, the music ebbing and flowing through drone build-ups and more exquisite piano reveries. Once again, moody and somber, but beautiful. And so it goes, Deaf Center getting much heavier (eventually) in the midst of the grinding epic, "The Day I Would Never Have", the album's nearly 11 minute long centerpiece (which is infinitely longer on the vinyl version, as it ends the first side with a locked groove). Dense tones resonate with great emotional presence.
Skodvin's deep cello sawing can get spiky too, as on the nervously dramatic "Animal Sacrifice", though all is soothed by the luminous fuzz of the ambient background. Another epic track appears before the end of the disc, "Close Forever Watching" being 8 minutes of glorious, massing drone shimmer - play loud!!
With its balance of delicacy and weightiness both, Deaf Center's Owl Splinters coincidentally in some respects reminds us of two other releases recommended on this week's list - the new album from Earth, and also the Klute soundtrack! The recent Ural Umbo lp highlighted here last time also comes to mind.
Essential for fans of all things Type and Miasmah, particularly (of course) Svarte Greiner, also Elegi, Jacaszek, Fjellstrom, etc. A great going to sleep album for some of us, if you're ready for some perhaps suspenseful dreams.
Please note that the vinyl version, as is often the case with Type releases, is packaged with a bonus cd, in this case containing a 46 minute reworking of the album tracks by Skodvin under his Svarte Greiner guise, entitled Twin. Why they want to deprive cd purchasers of that, we don't know.
Didn't know too much about this Spanish combo, but the fact that they seemed to often be described as equal parts Kraftwerk and Arab On Radar definitely piqued our interest. And once we finally heard this latest 4 song blast of electro punk crunch, we'd probably add Black Bug to the equation, the same sort of urgent punked out riot grrly rrroooaaar. But instead of BB's synthpunk howl, the sound of DV is more garagey, a sort of punky Stoogesy groove, laced with bits of electronics and peppered with dueling boy girl vocals. The opening track here, "Kill D.I.Y Idols" is itself a killer, with fuzzy bass, programmed beats, caterwauled vocals, and a bad ass main riff, the tripped out FX and minimal electronics only adding some extra weirdness. In an odd way, it reminded us a little of Burzum, the same sort of lilting electronic melodies, but here wedded to some garage punk blast. Super dynamic, with some rad stop starts. "Potential H-Bomb" is more of the same, with a postpunk groove, some cool weirdly harmonized vox, some noisy chaotic guitars, and lots of fuzzed out synth blurt. "Scrawl" applies the same sonic approach to punk folk, acoustic guitar, simple drums, off key crooning, sassy female back up vox, and occasional feedback drenched squalls of noise. Finally "Lightning Field" gets back to the warped electro punk, with thick synth buzz under some frenetic programmed beats, some bloopy spaced out melodies, crunchy guitars swirls, the whole thing pretty spaced out and psychedelic, again laced with occasional blasts of in-the-red buzz and howl, everything wreathed in alien synths and fractured FX. So killer. A bit surprised these guys (and gal) aren't way more popular. Imagine it won't stay that way for long...
Super nice packaging, thick super striking black and white sleeve, with a full color printed insert, pressed on orange vinyl, and includes a cd version of the same music on the 7"!
Brand new batch of twisted psychedelic summery druggy dream pop from this oddly monikered UK one man band, and it's simply more of what we loved about the last record. If anything, this new one sounds way less lo-fi, the guitars are alternatingly warm and jangly, crumbly and crunchy and fuzzy, the vocals are multi tracked into strange harmonies, the sound simple but so sweetly shimmery, the vocals reverbed and draped over lilting major key jangle pop, sounding almost like a more home brewed bedroom version of aQ pop faves Telekinesis.
But it's not all sunshine, the band do manage to get a little bit dour and minor key now and again, and those might be our favorites, "Like It Was Again" (a redone and polished up version of a song from the first record) is total mix tape heaven, simple propulsive drumming, fuzzy jangle, sweet vocals, and a haunting Cure like melody wrapped around everything, there's also a buzzy minimal guitar solo that just sort of replays the main melody. "Stream" is another one, a brooding strummer, with creepy fields of feedback, and a gorgeous main minor key melody, the song exploding into full psychedelia, the guitars distorted and heavily effected, before slipping right back into the lope and brood. And in fact, the record gets less and less summery feeling with each listen, maybe more like a rainy summer day, indoors, the sun hidden behind the clouds, the sound a little bit gloomy and barely cold wavey here and there, but so catchy, and as much as we dug Tendrils, this one sounds EVEN better. Most definitely a new fave. And fans of the Captured Tracks usual suspects (Beach Fossils, Blank Dogs, Hanoi Janes, Minks, Soft Moon), who have yet to check this guy out, well, this would be as good a place as any to start!
The Dodos continue to remain one of the most immediate and satisfying voices to rise above the crowded indie rock scene. With each subsequent record they've built on what came before, pushing it a little further every time, their sound becoming more fleshed out and fully realized, and the songs just getting better and better.
With their last outing, Time To Die, Dodos showed they could make a record that kept their frenetic energy but also really raised the bar on their songwriting capacity. On No Color, they've made an album that so perfectly melds their unique ability to sound so urgent while also being rife with such lush melodic layers, unique time changes, incredible guitar shredding, and powerful percussion, all of which really makes their songs sound like sonic marching orders to get through the mundane of the every day.
There is an epic nature to these tracks, as Dodos have the rare ability to make a four minute song sound so big and wide in scope, yet still remain grounded by an intimacy that shines through it all. It doesn't hurt that their pal Neko Case joined them on many of these songs. Alongside Pinback, they stand as one of the most substantial and engaging indie rock bands around!
Musicians are an odd bunch. We used to joke that whenever you'd get a bunch of musicians together, if they ever went into some cool house, or a store, or a basement, or a bus, or a water tower, or an attic, or a yard, or a barn or really any sort of space, someone would always point out that said space "would be a great place to have shows". Similarly, as musicians discovered the musicality in everyday objects and everyday sounds, it seemed that everything and anything could be recorded and made into 'music'. Field recordings were no longer just the jurisdiction of naturalists and scientists. And it wasn't just the sound of frogs, or insects, suddenly it was melting ice, the beep of a respirator, the sound of drag racing, a zamboni, literally anything. It got to the point where we would hear something, and our first thought would immediately be "wow, if this was a record, we could totally sell a bunch of these".
Back to the odd musicians... composer Arnold Dreyblatt was faced with a serious illness, and went through a series of MRI scans, which stands for magnetic resonance imaging. You know, one of those big machines that a person is loaded into as a huge magnet swings around the body taking pictures, you've definitely seen people getting MRI's on House or Scrubs or St Elsewhere or about a million other hospital shows, and if you've ever had one, you realize it's pretty loud, a thick machinelike buzz. But if you're a musician, odd by nature, then you also think to yourself, as we most likely would, "wow, this machine makes an amazing sound, I need to record it". Which is precisely what Dreyblatt did, but this is not a straight recording, nope. Instead, he made multiple recordings of the machine, at different settings, thus creating different sounds, different tones, and then organized the recordings by pitch and rhythm and various other elements, and created a composition from these MRI recordings, and then used said composition as the sound component for an installation, which took place in a huge, resonant space, which is where this recording was captured.
And it's definitely a gorgeous set of sounds, warm metallic whirrings, pulsing rhythmically, the multiple recordings deftly layered creating fantastic overtones and subtle sonic shifts, from whirring minimal thrum, to dense swirling high end harmonies, the sound is actually remarkably psychedelic, and a little bit spacey, it's not hard to imagine something similar being created by some dude and his suitcase full of ring modulators and effects, but this, this is way more unique, the mechanical source occasionally revealing itself, but quickly disappearing into another layered pulsing cloud of machinedrone dreaminess, or throbbing metallic shimmer, the whole thing so lush and dense and fantastically mesmerizing.
And as promised last list, when we made the reissue of seventies Mexican psych legends Los Dug Dug's 1971 self-titled debut a Record Of The Week, here's their equally Record Of The Week worthy second album, 1972's Smog, now also reissued on both cd and, for the first time, vinyl! And as we said then, we love this band! Why? 'Cause Los Dug Dug's kick out jams that are part garage rock grooviness, part Beatlesy bliss, part power pop, part proto-metal, and part prog (with flute!!). What's not to love? And we haven't even mentioned the heavy dosage of FUZZ they supply, either!
Unlike the debut, which was Mexico's first rock record sung all in English, Smog is sung in Spanish, and sees Los Dug Dug's stripped down to an amped up power trio format, led as always by guitarist/vocalist Armando Nava (he's on the right in the cover picture, with the dyed grey long hair and beard, looking like some pensive psychedelic wise man or wizard). Pretty sure he's also the one playing the flute here, pumping up the progginess in a hard rock context that could kinda be likened to Jethro Tull meets the MC5, yeah, and reminds us of Italian prog faves Osanna, too.
Smog is one smokin' album, it's hard to pick favorite tracks, as they're all so good, but we'd have to mention both the lovely ballad "Voy Hacia El Cielo (Voy Hacia El Sol)" and the motorcycle revving, ecological protest rocker "Smog". Yep, just like their self-titled debut, this one's got plenty of both the heavy rockers and the gentler, poppier stuff, but leans towards the former, and seems more '70s than their first album, which had more of a '60s feel to it.
Air pollution is certainly a '70s theme, also something that any band based in Mexico City would be concerned about, and the title Smog gives this a heavier vibe than if they'd called it something like Flowers & Incense, eh? In keeping with their new style and attitude, they do a Spanish-language remake / update of the debut's frantic garage beat number "Let's Make It Now", stretching it to almost 12 minutes, as a totally progged out, flute-fortified five part suite, now titled "Hagamasolo Ahora (2a. Parte)", while retaining all the energetic excitement of the original. The energy level of this entire album is exhilarating, there's a couple pleasant acoustic numbers but otherwise it's quite rough, rhythmic, and riffy.
As we said when we reviewed the reissue of the debut, we've listed this album (and several others by the band) 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 these new editions will be around longer, and remain easy to stock. Also, these reissues are the very first time we've seen any Dug Dug's reissued on VINYL, yay!!!
As with the self-titled debut, the new cd version of this comes packaged in a handsome plastic-protected miniature lp style sleeve, complete with obi strip. Other than the text on the obi, there's no liner notes for this reissue, which we're told is a result of the difficulties inherent in licensing a release like this from a major label (it's owned by Sony BMG). In any case, we're glad it got reissued again, at all, and it's nice enough! Sooo recommended, equally up there with the debut, maybe even better, especially for folks who dig the cowbell-knockin', fuzz rockin' action.
El Michels Affair and Budos Band should have some crazy battle of the amazing modern soul/funk bands sometime, because both groops are such heavy hot groovers in their own takes on instrumental soul/funk. Last time we heard from El Michels Affair they were interpreting the work of Wu Tang Clan in a way that was strong and soulful and not at all some sort of gimmick. They have returned, doing the same to the amazing music of Isaac Hayes, paying tribute to him by interpreting his songs (both his hits and more obscure tracks) in such a rich and free flowing way. They don't try to mimmick the originals, instead they really do inject a new vibe and energy into them, and they help remind us all that Isaac Hayes was much more than just Shaft, or a cartoon character on South Park, but in fact one of the most brilliant musical minds of our time. This sizzles and burns with such delight! Some parts remind us of the slinky grooves on that Xero soundtrack by Rockford Kabine.
Previously unreleased 3rd (double) album from cult krautrock trio Exmagma (no relation to French prog masters Magma). Recorded in 1975 at Conny Plank's studio, this excellently-produced opus somehow eluded release for over thirty years. Now finally here it is, with vintage artwork, informative liner notes, and most importantly, 17 tracks, 69 minutes of quirkily wacky krautrock that had lain dormant for far too long. If you've heard either of their first two albums (the self-titled from '73 or Goldball from '74, both of which were once available together on a single cd reissue that's now sadly out of print) then you know they're a freaky band, a bit like Guru Guru but with more jazz-fusion stuff going on. This is still pretty jazzy but more rock than before -- with more singing too. Definitely betrays the influence of Captain Beefheart (with the track "Torpedo Tits" perhaps coming uncomfortably close to Frank Zappa lyrical territory) but also that of Miles Davis as well. A lost krautrock effort that we'd wager doesn't sound like too much else in your cd collection, with hard, angular grooves, druggy concepts, zany rock, confusional hippie humor, and journeyman jazz chops -- for a gonzo Frankenstein of an album only Exmagma would dare design and build.
Back in stock, now way cheaper than before!
Ok, let's get the first question everybody has about this band out of the way: they've got nothing to do with our favorite Seventies proggers, Magma from France. The trio Exmagma was also from the '70s, but from Germany (featuring an expatriate African-American drummer though) and are known as Exmagma simply because they had originally called themselves Magma, until they found out about the French group and changed the name! Some understandable confusion resulted, we're told, because Exmagma's second record Goldball was only released on a French label...and the "real" Magma kinda sound more German than French what with their Wagner influence. Anyway, THIS band was more of an acid rock meets (free) jazz fusion kind of thing. Freaky, wild, and groovy. Laid back weirdness, some sax, lots of electric organ and piano, doublenecked bass/guitar...Mostly instrumental, with only some very rare Faust-like vocal parts. This disc contains their two albums, both recorded by Krautrock production maestro Conny Plank, with the first self-titled one from '73 being perhaps the more far-out and abstract, while 1974's Goldball more solidly grooved. Maybe. However, both LPs are "drug jazz" classics. Also, on the cover to Goldball (reproduced in miniature here) the band sports the craziest bellbottoms we've ever seen...they're on stilts under them I guess!
We first heard from Eyes Like Saucers back in 2007, when we reviewed the record Still Living In The Desert, which found ELS, aka Jeff Knoch, fomerly of hypnotic psych folkers Urdog, abandon his band, and his friends, ditch all the usual rock band instrumentation, and head off for places unknown, with nothing but a VW van, a handful of acoustic instruments, most importantly, an Indian harmonium, and his faithful canine sidekick. That record, was a fantastic bit of hypnotic dronemusic, a wheezing, druggy droniness, whirring and shimmery and meditative, steeped in the traditions of Indian ragas and modern minimalist drone music more than the psychedelic sounds of his former outfit.
Parmalee is the follow up, and is dedicated to his canine companion, as the subtitle suggests: "Tribute To A Dog". Hopefully this is just an expression of love for his dog, and they are still wandering the wilds together. Our first assumption was that perhaps Parmalee had died, and this was a musical eulogy, the sounds are definitely dark and moody and contemplative enough to be some sort of sad send off, but either way, these are some fantastic psychedelic space drone ragas, all wheezing organs, warm whirling chords, the sound thick and lush, but definitely ragged around the edges, urgent and intimate, captivating and totally mesmerizing. It's impossible to not fall immediately under their spell. Once again, we're reminded of nineties NZ dronerockers Wreck Small Speakers On Expensive Stereos, but this is much more ritualistic, much more home spun drone folk. The rest of the record introduces strange percussion, electronic synths, chimes and bells, slipping from alien folk ritual, to spare almost Appalachian sounding strum, to sea shanty like ballad, all culminating in the gorgeous woozy three part 23 minute epic Warrigal, a lush harmonium workout, the chords and notes wheezing lazily, all sun dappled and drone drenched, the sounds so organic and hypnotic, laced with bits of percussion and tinkling chimes, so haunting and hazy, meditative and dreamy.
Fabric is the work of Chicago's Matthew Mullane, who could be seen as a one-man doppleganger of Emeralds. Not only does Mullane have an album of acoustic solo guitar work on Vin Du Select Qualitite, following Emerald's guitarist Mark McGuire in such an honor; he's released this stunning piece of liquid electronica that could fool even the most die-hard Emeralds fan. To further matters, A Sort Of Radiance had caught the attention of Emerald's John Elliott, who released the album through his Spectrum Spools imprint manufactured by Editions Mego. Present throughout A Sort Of Radiance are the percolating cosmic synths with the same classical overtures to Cluster, Fripp & Eno, and Schulze that Hauschildt and Elliott would adopt on those brilliant Emeralds records (especially What Happened and Does It Look Like I'm Here?). Even with very similar synth programing through step sequencing and hypnotic iterations of electronics, Mullane also seems to tap into the same bittersweet expressivity found on those Emeralds album. The same rounded notes which brought Emeralds' What Happened to a conclusion are reprised on Fabric's "Light Float" (an apt name for this levitational track with all of its fizzing lines of patterned electronic static), and even the harpsichord sounding electronics which girded Emeralds' near poptune "Candy Shoppe." The similarities can be unnerving; but when you forget about this and just listen to the wonderful music within... A Sort Of Radiance is a thing of beauty.
We can always count on local reissue label Companion Records to foster the kind of rare hidden musical gem that perhaps won't appeal to everyone, but will get a select group of enthusiasts very excited over the discovery of someone's sincerely unique, but often-times misguided musical vision. Companion's specialty has always been private press vanity records, such as the Louie Louie, Charlie Tweddle, Marc Mundy and New Creation records, and for their first foray into vinyl releases have given us two quite amazing but very different musical visionaries: the latent mope-psych of Stan Hubbs (reviewed elsewhere on this list) and the spirited orchestral lounge stylings of Michael Farneti.
Hailing from South Florida and recorded in 1976, Michael Farneti's Good Morning Kisses is a brilliant head-scratcher. Indeed, it seems Farneti is channeling Van Dyke Parks, The Neon Philharmonic, Harvey Sid Fisher and Scott Walker in his wide-eyed enthusiastic and sometimes melancholic songs about Movie Stars, ESP, New York Muggers and Georgia Peaches. Without a hint of irony, Farneti exudes a wonderfully naive charm with strange (and perhaps unintentionally humorous) lyrics and sometimes goofy songs (an example: "Shower, shower, shower until you smell like a flower" on the title track). While we admit we maybe use Ariel Pink's name as a comparison too much in our reviews, it does seem apropos here, because if Ariel Pink played piano in a Reno airport lounge in the seventies, it might sound a lot like Good Morning Kisses. It definitely has the falsetto harmonies, Theremin flourishes, and washed out orchestral yacht rock arrangements that can be heard on Doldrums. Though some songs may make you cringe ("Rock Candy Roll"), there are plenty of golden moments and for fans of unique musical visionaries like the ones we mentioned above, Good Morning Kisses has a lot to offer. Limited to 500 copies. Sweet!
Ok, just like the gone-in-a-flash handful of Keiji Haino's So, Black Is Myself's we listed a few weeks ago, here's another out of print Haino related cd that we have but THREE copies of, that we found hidden in a dusty corner of the same local distributor's warehouse. So, we're not gonna go all out reviewing it, probably either you know you need a copy of this, or you don't, and if you do, act fast! For the record, though, it's the very first (and still one of the only) *studio* recordings by the Japanese guitarist's (former) band Fushitsusha, who were a darkly psychedelic, improvising "free-rock" trio unlike any other. This album, released in 1993, is a particularly unique item in their discography for sure, perhaps due to being a studio recording, this is a bit different from some other Fushitsusha efforts, relying less on amplified distortion and feedback. Instead, it's remarkably clean, quiet and controlled (relatively speaking, this is still seasick miasmic murk, really!), the 10 tracks here, each titled "Magic", I through X, being precisely structured, if counterintuitive, compositions, working their trance-inducing magic via tense, tightly wound repetition, at the edges of which you may hear Haino's familiar angst-filled vocalizations.
'Twas one of the earliest releases on John Zorn's Japan-based label Avant (forerunner to Tzadik), hence the import pricing. While old, these are still "new" copies, complete with obi strip.
Here's a beautiful dvd-r from Richard Garet and Asher Thal-Nir. While Garet's greysmear minimalism has hypnotized us via his previous releases, it's his visual sensibility that provides the sublime, slow-motion drama here. Asher, too, is an exceptional understated composer whose signature lines of soft-focus static gird his musical accompaniment to Garet's film. There are only a few interlocking elements to the sounds and visuals for Melting Ground, with Garet providing a single tracking shot of a series of Alaskan glaciers viewed from above by way of helicopter; and Asher's piano interludes look back to the delicate compositions of Satie, hovering above that audio snow that he so often uses within his work. The treatment that Garet gives to his film is quite remarkable, as he really does an excellent job in simulating the antique patina of a hand-cranked camera whose imperfect motion creates a pulsing flicker with overexposed flashes of bleaching white and Rorschach blots of underexposed inky blacks. Coupled with a fine coat of fabricated film-dust, scratches, and debris, the film itself has the bruised visual corollary to so many of the sounds generated out of Phillip Jeck's vintage turntables. The pacing of the film is deliberately slow, panning across enormous mountains of crumpled earth jutting out of looming banks of suspended fog and vast patterned surfaces of ice. The effect is one of a found-piece of film, uncovered from somewhere deep within one of those glaciers as an artifact from a lost team of explorers. The elegiac timbre of Asher's composition supports a similar antiquity, given the early 20th century references he seems to be making. Even the softened static that grounds all of his clustered piano notes, seem to have been extracted from the surface noise of a wax cylinder from that same time period. There is a sense of wonder, awe, fear, and beauty to this piece, one that parallels Leif Elggren's minimalist abstraction Arranging for an Opening of a Teleport to Shangri-La, which appropriated Frank Capra's early film Lost Horizon into a smear of drone and slow-burning visuals. Melting Ground's magic lantern approach to the material gives it more of a haunted, excavated aesthetic, with all of it addressing an allusion to the perils of climate change, especially in its impact upon the glaciers which hold so much of the world's fresh water. Limited to a mere 150 copies, and nicely packaged in an oversized folio.
Surprising Utech release here, not (quite) so droney as they often are, but rather more rhythmic, and in fact downright prog-rocky. Graves And Orchestra Pits are a transcontinental two-piece, one guy (based in Stuttgart, Germany) on guitars, synths, and much else besides; the other guy (from Tokyo, Japan) on drums and electronics... Not sure how they got together, but they make a fine team, stirring up a lot of noise in a quirky, confusional, chamber-prog context. The beats are big and effected, going whap whap whap, amidst all sorts of interesting textures, some of this quite lovely really. Droned out blissful bits coexist with electronic glitch, gentle strings wrap 'round crashing cymbals, snatches of electronica intersect improv skitter... each track adding something new to the sonic stew. A compelling listen, these eight unique, instrumental mini-epics of full of fractured melody, odd noises, and disturbing drumming...
The duo format, and Japanese drummer, and overall kinetic energy, makes us think of the Ruins, but this, with its "Orchestra Pits" moniker, has an additional, avant-garde classical music gone wrong atmosphere to it, field recordings and found sounds juxtaposed with piano and glockenspiel... Plus, guests contribute violin, viola, vibes, flute, sax, etc. on a few of the tracks. So it's not exactly a stripped down sound, this is dense and chaotic and complex, though calm and sparse some of the time too, to catch you unawares.
Packaged in the usual slim, slightly oversized Utech style sleeve, and limited to just 300 copies!!
It's a little surprising that we haven't reviewed anything by these knuckle dragging noise rock punk thug weirdos, some of us are big fans, every one of their records, all twisted blasts of fractured, fucked up gnarled distorto stomp 'n crunch. Here's a list of bands, if you dig any or all of them, odds are you already love these guys too, or really seriously should: Harry Pussy, Rusted Shut, Violent Students, Liquorball, Drunkdriver, Twin Stumps, Breathilizor, Dead Meat, Billy Bao, Shit And Shine, White Mice... You get the drift, this is chaotic, noisy, punk as fuck, sub Stooges, garage noise chaos, loose and wild, and unhinged, seriously fractured and frantic, blown out lo-fi and sweat soaked, sludgey and crusty and grimy and filthy and fucking RULING.
Plus they're just bizarre, the record opens with what sounds like a long slow stroll to the studio, culminating in a quick piss, before the door opens, the guitars get louder, the band eventually stumbling into action, and what glorious, lumbering and lurching action it is, the bass thick and buzzy, the drums loose and wild, the guitars all Black Flaggy and the vocals, yelped, crooned, mumbled, multiple voices, not really harmonizing, just sort of all doing their own thing. But within all this messy chaotic rocking, these guys rip, the songs killer, the riffs bad ass, the Stooges vibe is huge, but filtered through thick clouds of bongsmoke and heaping helpings of bathtub meth, the sound shifting from warped midtempo creep, all atonal guitars and low slung bass to full bore rocking, in-the-red and on the verge of total collapse.
And the weirdness definitely extends well beyond the sound, check out the song titles, all inexplicably with some variation of 'man' in the title: "Beneath The Blackman", "Cannon Fodderman", "In The Basementman", "Nightman", "Noseman", "Sea Wolfman", etc. And what does any of that have to do with the fruit-y title: Strawberry Orange Peach Banana? Or the thrift store oil painting artwork? Who cares? All we know is we love everything about these twisted noise rock psychos, and this record is kicking our asses!
We can always count on local reissue label Companion Records to foster the kind of rare hidden musical gem that perhaps won't appeal to everyone, but will get a select group of enthusiasts very excited over the discovery of someone's sincerely unique, but oftentimes misguided musical vision. Companion's specialty has always been cd reissues of vintage private press vanity releases, such as the Luie Luie, Charlie Tweddle, Marc Mundy, and New Creation records, and for their first foray into vinyl, have given us two quite amazing but very different musical visionaries: the spirited orchestral lounge stylings of Michael Farneti (reviewed elsewhere on this list) and the latent stoner mope-psych of Stan Hubbs.
Released in collaboration with Gloriette Records (Nite Jewel, Ariel Pink, and Puro Instinct), Stan Hubbs' 1982 recording Crystal is more out of its time than ahead of it. Recorded in his rural Sonoma County living room, it seems like the band almost can't decide if they're latent hippie stoner boogie-folk, eighties shred-guitar rock or progressively disaffected mope wave, which makes for an unusually intriguing sound that is hard to pin down. Hubb's vocals sometimes sung in a near monotone with female singer Kriss O'Neil can sound as much like a downer Fleetwood Mac as it can resemble some of today's gloomy pop found in Beach Fossils or Crystal Ships. But it's Larry Doyle's kitchen sink electric guitar approach that makes it really out of sync in an amazing way. Using lots of psychedelic effects and sounding like he's eager to show off his shredding licks to anyone who comes along, Doyle shows just barely enough restraint not to overstep the hazy vibe the singers and keyboards are laying down. Imagine if Simply Saucer did a cover of America's "Tin Man", and you'll sort of get the idea. But this is regionalism at its best, taking lots of big musical ideas from different popular styles and making something completely home-brewed, a bit oft-kilter and super genuine. Limited to 500 copies, comes with a full reproduction of the 16 page booklet of lyrics and drawings that came with the original release. Hot Damn!
New mysterious lp from the equally mysterious duo, Hype Williams. Housed in a blank white 12" sleeve with a blank white label and white vinyl and no identifying information whatsoever, except for a sticker on the shrink wrap. Hell, it took us awhile to even figure out what speed it's supposed to play at and we're still not really sure. Crackly and hollowed out synth washes and bouncy but distant drum machines play in deceptively basic minimal-funk pitch-shifted arrangements that slowly wooze and morph into dreamy soul refractions. Hazy and murky like their witch-house contemporaries would be good descriptors, but it's much more of a hot muddled electro mess than spindly goth horror daydream. Dam-Funk on Nyquil, perhaps? Supposedly these songs have titles, but there is no listing, maybe if we slavishly followed the blogs, we might have a clue, but it's hard to tell where one track ends and another one starts. We don't even know which is side one or two. Hype Williams may revel in their particular brand of confounding prankishness and seem not to care if you are in on their joke or not, but if their output wasn't so curiously intriguing, we might have not given this a second thought. Truth be told, we can't stop trying to wrap our heads around it, so that's gotta be something, right?
New age. Pretty much the ultimate diss when you want to put down someone's musical taste. Or harsh on some band, or record. Tough to think of a more purely musical putdown. Sellout? Maybe. Poser? Definitely, but not necessarily musical. But New Age. Oof. Moms and Grandmas listen to new age. Yanni ferchrissakes! And with all the ambient music we love so much here at AQ, we're extra conscious of negative New Age connotations, cuz it's always a fine line between shimmery droney dreaminess and whooshy New Age schmaltz. But c'mon, trust us, trust the folks at EM Records, and take our word that if you're only ever gonna buy one unabashed actual New Age album (and Andee hasn't already forced you to get some George Winston or Kitaro), then this should absolutely be the one.
Iasos was born in Greece and moved to America when he was 4, began playing piano at 8, then flute at 10. In the late sixties, he began to hear a 'new' music in his head and moved to California to try and realize this "heavenly music". And finally in 1975, he did it! Iasos 'invented' new age music with the release of 1975's Inter-Dimensional Music Through IASOS, which has now been reissued by the fine folks at EM, and has stood the test of time pretty darn well.
It's all here, tinkling piano, swooshing synthesizers, running water sounds, bird calls, maudlin melodies, fluttering flutes, crickets chirping, lots of nature sounds, thunderstorms, strange sound effects, gentle keening drones, whirling sonic washes and sweet swirls of soft focus sound. Even the song titles: "The Bubble Massage", "Rainbow Canyon", "Crystal Petals", "Clouds Prayer", Libra Sunrise." Yep, this is definitely New Age, there's no two ways about it, but if you can look past that 'stigma', this record is actually quite beautiful. And mysterious. And delicately lovely. It has lots of elements that plenty of AQ faves share, strange production, lots of fuzzy airy drones, plenty of insect sounds, bird calls, all wrapped into sweet expanses of dreamy sound. In fact if we listed this as some super limited cd-r on some upstart microlabel in Tasmania, and it had some murky forest photo on the cover, we'd sell tons, and no one would be the wiser. It's easy to forget that the modern crop of drifting ambient experimentalists owe quite a bit to new age pioneers. And let's not forget about all the pretty cool bands who either WERE new age, became new age, or incorporated elements of new age into their sound: Popol Vuh, Ashra, Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Deuter, Jean-Michel Jarre, and Vangelis.
But Inter-Dimensional Music, regardless of pedigree, or genre classification, is just a dang good record. A little cheesy in places maybe but so what, hasn't stopped us from listening to this practically every day!!
Like all EM releases, the packaging is amazing. But the Iasos has a truly striking cover, even by the already impossibly high EM Records standards. Metallic gold embossed printing on glossy white paper. the cover image a man's torso, emerging from a cloud, arm upraised holding a flute, which is being struck by lightning. Some of you may recognize the image as it was stolen for a record cover many years back by Canadian noiserock guitarmy Superconductor. And of course there's also gold and white obi, as well as a massive booklet full of liner notes (all in Japanese, sorry) and loads of photos. As with all EM releases, SO RECOMMENDED!!!!
Index was a band like thousands throughout the '60s, encouraged by the birth of rock 'n' roll a decade earlier and fueled by the waves of British bands that would hit the American shores. This quartet was born in the Detroit suburb of Grosse Pointe in 1967, at a time when the country was beginning to experience the pangs of turmoil and Detroit itself could be seen almost as a microcosm of the social unrest that was beginning to unfold. The heritage of Index is certainly notable, as the lead guitarist of the band was one John Ford. While the liner notes penned by drummer Jim Valice never overtly state that John's family was THE Ford family which spawned the automotive empire; the implication is quite clear that it is. While the affluence of John and fellow guitarist Gary Francis certainly helped in getting some great gear and recording equipment, the sound of Index is one of adolescence entering adulthood with an awakening disbelief that so much could be wrong in the world. At least on their first album, Index played with an urgency that sounded like the end of the world was near, as an underlying horror of bleakness lies beneath Index's punchy garage-pop beats and spring-reverb overloaded distortion. Their amateurish production that stumbled upon a cavernous sound certainly helps with this assessment. Think Jandek trying to mimic the sound of Martin Hannett's classic production sound for Joy Division.
The band drew from the '60s songbook, covering the Byrds' "Eight Miles High", The Supremes' hit single "You Keep Me Hanging On", and The Bee Gees "I Can't See Nobody", and the band claims Hendrix as a huge influence on their sound, with an incendiary feedback encroaching into their beat pop tunes, at times coming across like Davie Allan and at others looking forward to Ron Asheton's work on The Stooges' first album. All of this came to fruition on what would become known as The Black Album, which was recorded with a single microphone in a large empty ballroom, whose acoustics gave the album its unusual sound. The spring reverb drips upon the overdriven guitar leads and forceful rhythmic guitar jangle, which for 1967 would have been pretty damn heavy. The vocal duties of Index rotated from song to song, occasionally finding all of the members singing these emphatic, if monochordal harmonies that oozed with bittersweet energy and late-teen angst. This is typified on one of Index's best songs "Fire Eyes" and furthered along through their cover of "Eight Miles High". Another great highlight of note is the proto MC5 oil'n'motorcycle grind found on the instrumental track "Feedback".
When Index recorded their second album in 1968 later pegged as The Red Album, they had picked up a sound-on-sound cassette recorder, which seemed to be something of precursor to a 4-track. Unfortunately, in this technological jump, Index lost the cavernous murk of that single microphone recording in that ballroom, but they still managed some great songs dominated by Ford's spring-reverb soaked guitars, including a reprise of "Eight Miles High". "Paradise Beach" is a wonderfully downer, '60s pop number, and "Break Out" is a spry instrumental with a fine backbeat lifted from Booker T & The MGs. The band stumbles with the one boogie-rock blues number, but otherwise, The Red Album makes for a great listen.
The second disc of this set is a collection of tracks from an unreleased third album in 1970, recorded mostly by Ford and Vallice. A paisley-pop jangle settles into the mix with less of the expressive feedback that drove so much of The Black Album, and the songs show a maturation in the vocal harmonies as well. But the band broke up with the various members torn by their commitments with college, girls, and work. So the world turns.
A highly recommended find!
A reissue of the 2004 album Virdulegu Forsetar from Iceland's post-classical composer Johann Johannsson. Since the release of this album, Johannsson has jumped from Touch to 4AD, with international acclaim following right along. Virdulegu Forsetar is an hour long piece written for 11 brass players (trumpets, horns, tuba), percussion (Glockenspiel and bells), electronics, organs and piano. Virdulegu is all brooding, slow building, minor key, cinematic epic. Warm and lush, rich with harmonic overtones, and melodically very grandiose. The sounds here are very visual and definitely bring to mind vast expanses of land or space, whether it's the sun slowly rising over the desert, the moon peeking from behind a planet, a slowly spiralling galaxy, and even the Olympics. Huh? Yep, the Olympics. The melodies and instrumentation are quite similar to the fanfares used during the opening ceremonies, or over montages of past Olympiads, lovely nonetheless. And of course much darker and dronier than any of the music actually used for the Olympics. Each epic fanfare / flourish dissipates into a rumbling subterranean drone, where it hovers and slowly shifts until another fanfare surfaces in it's place, shines briefly, only to quickly sink back into the inky darkness.
The Miasmah label has been on fire lately! Without a doubt they have become one of the most consistently dependable labels releasing layered, dark, haunting, droned out mysterious sounds. This time around the label has gone back to the '90s to unearth some amazing sounds that somehow never managed to get a proper widespread release. It makes sense that this Norwegian band's moniker means 'abyss'. The music makes the listener feel like they are floating around the charred remains of a civilization that has been doomed, yet there is still something so paralyzing and beautiful about the void and desolation.
It's so impressive that this was recorded between 1996-1998, a decade before the outburst of so many drone based recordings that we have constantly freaked out over. With a sound that is so haunted, nuanced, layered, and so perfectly executed, taking in the more ambient and creepy side of black metal and doom drone luminaries like Burzum, SUNNO))) and Paysage D'Hiver, the soundscape imagination of Philip Jeck, and the minimalist intensity of Tony Conrad and Deathprod.
Like the soundtrack to a horror movie that isn't as much about shock and awe as it is about casting a very real spell that shimmers with isolation and a beautiful kind of despair. As with most things on Miasmah, so very recommended.
Record Of The Week honorees Los Dug Dugs aren't the only vintage psych band from south of the border that we dig, of course. Here's another, recently reissued rarity as well. The Mexican Kaleidoscope, not to be confused with the UK Kaleidoscope (a huge AQ favorite) or the USA Kaleidoscope either. Actually this Kaleidoscope was only sorta from Mexico - while record was originally released there, the band had begun in Puerto Rico, and then later moved in on the Mexican scene, via a stopover in the Dominican Republic, where this album was recorded, in 1967. Interestingly, on the back cover of the cd booklet, there's a show poster for 'em (billed as The Kaleidoscopes) that says they're from here in San Francisco, psychedelic central at the time, a promoter's claim made probably just to help sell tickets. But they did sound like they *could* have been from 'Frisco all right.
Swirling organ and guitar fuzz dominate the uptempo numbers, like garagey, groovy opener "Hang Out", and there's plenty of organ and fuzz to be heard on the more melodic, moody likes of "Once Upon A Time There Was A World", a somber eight minute opus that one. Definitely killer psychedelic pop stuff for all you "Nuggets" fans, Kaleidoscope for sure fitting in with such acts as The Electric Prunes, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Question Mark & The Mysterians, The Lollipop Shoppe, and others of the era. They seemed to specialize in the wild and unhinged, there's even a song called "I'm Crazy".
The urgent and intense "Colours", with its stinging fuzz, burbling electronics, sudden horn-honks, and desperate vocals, is especially tripped-out. Crucial lines from the lyrics: "acid colors burn my brain / I'm just insane"! Also something about the singer's delivery on that track reminds us of Mexican-American punks The Plugz (of Repo Man soundtrack fame)... That's probably the number one nugget here, a classic, but all the tracks are pretty good. One song here, with the great title of "I'm Here, He's Gone, She's Cryin'", was written by their Venezuelan pals Ladies WC, the others all originals.
This is a nicely done, totally legit reissue (they even tracked down the original cover artist), with extensive liner notes, vintage photos, and cool full color artwork in the cd booklet. It also includes 3 bonus tracks: 2 bluesy ones from a Kaleidoscope offshoot (which may or many not date from the '60s, we wonder) and a live recording of Kaleidoscope in 1969, doing Donovan's "Season Of The Witch". Shadoks pronounce themselves pleased to put this out, and they should be.
It was beginning to get pretty ridiculous, for ages we were hearing all about this band, how great they were, reading about them in metal mags, hearing other metal bands rave about them, much talk of how amazing their record was, appearances in top ten lists, pictures of the super striking John Baizley cover art everywhere, even beginnings of a backlash on the blogs about how overhyped they were, but the only problem was, you couldn't find the record ANYWHERE! At least in the US, we spent months and months, trying every metal distro, every non metal distro, we had just about given up, when voila, it finally got picked up and released domestically, with a whole mess of bonus tracks to boot. So was the wait worth it? Does Kvelertak live up to the hype?
Well, yeah, actually it was. This stuff IS pretty awesome, and bizarre, a weird blend of blasting black metal and D-beat cock-rock Turbonegro style over the top rock. Just have a listen to the opening track, which explodes in a frenzy of buzz and blast and shriek, only to switch gears into a way more groovy heavy metal punk pound, the shrieked vocals the only thing keeping it from going full Turbonegro. In fact, the NON black metal parts kind of sound like a supercharged Hellacopters, which is not at all a bad thing. And the sound is epic, the production massive, the energy through the roof.
But it's that sort of heavy rock groove thing, that might deter lots of the more true and kvlt metalheads. "Mjod" is all pounding pianos and tamborines, and big rock riffage, epic and swinging, that Hellacopters vibe huge, and the vocals are shrieky, not counting the deep bellowed gang vocals on the chorus, there's even a little acoustic guitar break, and then suddenly, a stretch of blasting black metal, which slips right back into the soaring cock rocky chorus. And so it goes. Hard to tell if these guys are black metallers indulging their inner KISS (or Turbonegro, or Hellacopters, or...), or if it's just some heavy rockers who toss in a blast here and there or a little tremlo picking to add some cult cred. Cuz it is a weird mix, and it doesn't always flow so smoothly, but we're digging it a lot, and if anything, it sounds like these guys probably KILL live. And that definitely comes across here big time.
These guys sent us an lp a long while back, and somehow we totally slept on it. Not sure why, a 12" x 12" image of a cloudy sky, the sun glinting in the background, and the words "PURE TRANSCENDENTAL BLACK METAL" writ large in big black records across the front, and inside, just what the cover promised some seriously buzzing blazing blackness. It's not surprising these guys found there way to 20 Buck Spin, a pretty good fit for sure for this NY horde.
Unlike the blissed out blackened ethereal transcendentalism of the lp, back when Liturgy was a one man bedroom black metal band, Renihilation finds Liturgy expanded to a 4 piece, and the sound is much more raw and organic, still blown out and pretty blissy, goddamn soaring and epic in fact, but it sounds more like a proper rock band, although the drumming is still inhumanly fast, and the band lock into these cool, weird, and very un-black metal sounding high end trills, that only make the sound that much more mysterious and mystical. The band claim some unlikely non-metal influences, but as you get into Renihilation, it's easy to hear that there's way more going on here than Ulver or Darkthrone worship, the band slipping into lurching, almost mathy breakdowns, incredible dynamics, that almost sounds like Harvey Milk at 78rpm, the sort of stop start, sway and lumber, that only works if the band is tight as fuck.
These songs are not super long either, but they feel majestic, and sprawling, and never ending, in a good way, the guitars are frantic, the drumming relentless, the guitars seem to exist only in the upper registers, like wild psychedelic leads transformed into some sort of blackened tremolo picking, so instead of black metal, these jams almost sound like modern classical compositions, like Arvo Part composing for black metal band, when a song ends, you feel exhausted, and drained, like at the end of a long journey, but before you can even catch your breath, the band explode into action once again. And before you know it, they're locked into another high end blast of extreme tension, no let up, no slipping into acoustic interludes, it's almost like the musical version holding your breath, soaring as high and for as long as (in)humanly possible, so when the band does pause briefly, it knocks you on your ass, of when they switch gears and get all spacious and dynamic, it nearly blows your mind.
When we first got this, we only listened to it a couple times, and thought it was pretty cool, but on repeated listens it is proving itself to be truly transcendental, and unlike almost all of the other black metal out there, and is quickly becoming a contender for black metal record of the year.
Full length number three from these black drone audio alchemists, offering up their latest sprawling epic, this one conceptually based on a JG Ballard novel about a leper colony, and the mysteriously crystallizing forest that threatens their existence. Heady stuff, but the sort of concept perfectly suited to Locrian's sprawling sonic mystery, epic and cinematic, haunting and harrowing, the music of Locrian already plays like a soundtrack, their sound evoking all manner of other worlds and alternate realities, lost civilizations and spiritual planes, underworlds and inner worlds and what lies between.
Normally a duo, here Locrian have been expanded to a trio, with an additional member contributing electronics and percussion, allowing the band to expand their sound even further, stretching out into lengthy explorations, drifting from deep buzzing drones to starry fields of glitched out electronics, swooping spacey black ambience to lumbering blackened doom, abstract post rock to churning crumbling low end dirges.
After what plays like a black metal power electronic intro, all corrosive black buzz, layered drones, distant buried melodies, howled anguished vox, and delicate tinkling chimes, the record shifts into a more tranquil blackness, the two tracks connected by those tinkling chimes, that melodic refrain, distant melodies drift beneath chant like vocals, processed guitar throb and thrum, eventually evolving into a stretch of gorgeously epic doomic plod, deep ominous vocals over keening high end melodies, subtle tribal drumming, and swirling ambience, a glacial groove that finally dissolves into a squall of white noise.
Gorgeous looped proggy guitars drift over electronic squelches, dizzying and hypnotic, multiple guitars layered into a mesmerizing harmony, eventually, another melody, and a thick crumbling distorted riff join in, drums too, and it's a fantastic bit of hypnotic chaos, laced with squealing guitars and bursts of free drum splatter.
The record unfurls an epic bit of hushed dronemusic minimalism, that also eventually erupts into some abstract rhythmic churn, looped and cyclical, all over grinding guitars and FX drenched squealing electronics, before slipping into some caustic blackened drones, abject and grim, the guitars rumbling and crumbling and super distorted, while voices wail and howl way off in the distance. Finally the record finishes with a long stretch of moody melodic doom, acoustic guitars, crooned wordless vox, swirls of psychedelic guitar, high end electronic streaks, which expand into another pounding dirge, this one strangely pretty, even the anguished vokills can't take way from the track's lilting loveliness, a hazy bit of metallic slowcore, wrapped in increasingly frantic psychguitar, before all of that fades out completely, leaving just acoustic guitar, strings and what sounds like harmonium or accordion, a darkly emotional outro, culminating in a wild tangle of frenzied freaked out strings.
But that's just the first disc. Disc two continues with a nearly 54 minute single track, all instrumental, an epic sprawling, ever shifting chunk of blackened dronemusic, that could have easily been its own record. Deep ominous pulses, give way to hazy washed out melodies, laid over that ominous low end creep, which slips into spaced out looped electronics and haunting stretches of chantlike chorales, blown out blasts of white noise psychguitar splinter into blurred expanses of soft focus static, all wrapped around buried melodies, and muted metallic riffage, huge pummeling sheets of blown out black rrrrooaar plunge directly into black hole shimmer, laced with woozy bass thrum, and finally a stretch of tinkling echo drenched ambience, a swirling cloud of tinkling guitar melodies wrapped in thick black rumbles, and creepy looped laughter.
Epic and gorgeous, LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES! Housed in a super swank Stoughton style cd gatefold with gorgeous grim art by aQ pal Justin Bartlett, aka Vuberkvlt.
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!
We recognize that probably only people who've been looking for these five cds ever since they were first released in limited and expensive form in Japan almost ten years ago are likely to want to pay nearly $120 for this box set reissue, and they already know
In 1993, Japanese label Mom & Dad promised to release fifteen discs chronicling the unreleased studio recordings of Tokyo psych legend Magical Power Mako, but were only able to produce the first five. Israel-based MIO has decided to take on the project and will release three box sets containing five discs each. The material that makes up Hapmoniym 1972-1975 was recorded while Mako was working on his second masterpiece for Polydor, "Super Record". Often compared to krautrock pioneers Faust, this collecton is an incredible assemblage of sound experiments, collage pieces, tape manipulations and astral folk-psychedelia so epic and so out, one might be so bold to state that Hapmoniym as a whole even surpasses the density and innovation of the mighty Faust Tapes. And he was only a wee sixteen years old on the earliest of these recordings! Andee is especially fond of disc two, the part where it sounds like Jimi Hendrix jamming with a meowing cat. Keiji Haino fans take note as he appears on disc one, on possibly his most spaced out psychedelic trip ever. We await the remaining two 5-disc volumes with curiousity and excitement (and, patience). We do, however, have to scold MIO for a slight problem with the packaging: the 5 discs are in slim cd5 cases inside a little red cardboard box, with a booklet as well. It looks handsome, but each disc has its own unnecessary obi that doesn't really fit anywhere in the package once opened, but that of course you can't throw away, either, if you're like us. Oh well. We also could have done with more English language text in the booklet, it's mostly the original Japanese liner notes.
The last few months have given us a flurry of Mamiffer releases, first a split with Aaron Turner's House Of Low Culture, then another split with dark drone-noise heavies Oakeater, and now a brand new full length. With a pedigree that includes members of Everlovely Lightningheart and These Arms Are Snakes, and a crew of guests that has included folks from Isis and Helms Alee and others, you think this band would be sonically in line with their Hydrahead brethren, but instead, Mamiffer do their own thing entirely, which is not at all metal, and certainly not heavy, at least in the traditional sense. Instead, Mamiffer traffics in sprawling expanses of piano driven ambience, epic soundscapes the drift and shimmer and smolder, sometimes hushed and abstract, other times dense and dark and ominous and yeah, a little bit heavy.
This brand new one, released on Aaron Turner's new label Sige, finds the band perfecting their sound, creating a collection of songs that sounds like a more sinister Godspeed, the arrangements intricate and complex, the long songs drifting through multiple movements, all deftly assembled into these mini epics.
Take Mare Decendrii opener, "As Freedom Rings", which begins with a hazy layered bit of shimmery drone, before haunting piano joins the fray, then it's like some sort of haunted chamber music, eventually some heavy guitar comes in, but instead of launching into some crushing doom, the rest of the band switches gears and play something that sounds like the Rachel's, over which someone has laid thick swaths of crumbling distorted guitar. There are drums, and when they come in, the song gets marginally more propulsive, and a bit more proggy, in come strings as well, super cinematic and soundtracky, chantlike vocals, its like some strange Three Mile Pilot / Master Musicians Of Bukkake hybrid, brooding, and haunting, and mysterious and fantastically epic.
The rest of the record follows suit, varied for sure, but all woven into an elaborate and ever shifting tapestry, from soaring female vocal driven minimal chamber rock dirge, to shimmery hushed high end ambience, to creepy apocalyptic folk (at moments sounding like a piano-fied Woven Hand), to dark drifts of solo piano, to slow building doom flecked post rock churn, to barely there minimal low end thrum, to dreamy drifty abstract soundscapes...
Good stuff, another strange and mysterious, haunting and beautiful collection of heavy avant sonic abstraction from these audio alchemists!
As we mentioned in the review of the MSV 7" a while back, for a genre that seems to be the NEXT BIG THING, actual physical recordings are surprisingly difficult to come by. Which is maybe the point, much of the musical output comes in the form of tracks on SoundCloud, videos on YouTube, as super limited cd-r's or downloads, and most of the bands have names that are essentially un-Googlable, all symbols and shapes, A's become little black triangles, or three stylized crosses becomes 'Ritualz', etc, hard not to become intrigued, or obsessed, and we most definitely seem to be both.
Salem was the first glimpse the mainstream world got of this strange new genre, a sound that somehow melded blown out lo-fi synths, minimal electro, twisted samples, old school goth, minimal techno, slowed down Southern style chopped and screwed hip hop, choral vox, big beats, into something distorted and murky yet weirdly epic, a sound that the creators described as Witch House, but has also been dubbed grave rave, zombie rave, cave rave and is sometimes lumped in with nu-gaze and chill wave and other outsider electronic micro genres. And Salem is the shit, hell, we made it our Record Of The Week, how could we not, it was and IS one of the coolest record of the last few years. But if Salem are the young witch house upstarts, ramshackle punks legendary for their chaotic live performances, yet who somehow managed to make what is possibly THEE defining record of the genre, and if groups like oOoOO and Balam Acab are crafters of a witch house that is more melodic and dancefloor friendly, then Mater Suspiria Vision are like some mysterious bearded witch house council, the masters of the scene, black cloaked figures that live in a cave somewhere, never glimpsed in the flesh, only via their transmissions, mostly amazing, twisted, fantastically fucked up YouTube videos, mini horror epics, always accompanied by MSV's dirgey, haunting soundtracks, often releasing 3 or 4 in a single day. No idea where these guys are from (Kabul?), if it's one person or a group, male or female, the mystery only adds to the appeal, the imagery, the videos, and the music, which even in a genre defined by it's 'witchiness' manages to be seriously dark, and grim, creepy and scary.
Originally released as a super limited cassette tape, Crack Witch has now been resurrected on vinyl, by the newly launched Living Tapes label (run by the guy from outsider black metal weirdos Yoga by the way), and is probably the best witch house document since Salem's King Night. But MSV's witch house is something else all together, something all together more EVIL sounding, not sure if it's that they're conceived to accompany videos, but they also tend to be super cinematic, just check out the opener "Call Of The Witches", thick buzzing ominous synths, strange snippets of foreign language dialogue, strange spaced out stuttery beats, a stumbling groove, terrified shrieks, sobbing and weeping, everything reverby and echoey, and then an awesome dizzying blast of strange processed melodies, backward synths, almost like Teenage Filmstars style witch house, totally tripped out and seriously sonically scary.
"Evil House Of Forbidden Fruit" offers up big echoey beats, strange heavily effected vocals, the sound super distorted and crumbly, stuttery and rhythmic, underneath mysterious melodies swell, subtle synths pulse, all building to a crunchy corrosive climax. "House Of 7 Witches" is all swirly and shimmery by comparison, until the shimmer is buried beneath an avalanche of heavily delayed beats, and buzzing synth squelch, the beats getting louder and more distorted, careening back and forth, eventually totally obscuring all the other sounds. Finally, side one finishes of with the much more subdued "Wtxchs (A Suite Of Decay), with a low slung groove, wreathed in skitter and hiss, crackle and buzz, and some ominous reverbed female vocals courtesy of someone called Shazzula, the result a sort of warped witchy Portishead, downtempo and lo-fi, a grim ghostly ballad, that quickly splinters into a noise drenched cacophony, all thick synth buzz and glitched out electronics, buried vox, swirling effects, all draped over a skeletal beat, buried in the mix, a lurching dubnoise creep.
All of side 2 is taken up by the 24 minute epic "Trip 2012", a darkly cinematic epic, cobbled together from what sounds like bits of film music, as well as snippets of dialogue, but super reverby and echoey, like a sonic fun house mirror, it's not until about 3 minutes in that the synth drops, a thick, buzzing, snarly bit of wheezing chordal crunch, the various shards of delay and echo coalescing into a sort of beat, again weirdly reminding us of the most far out Teenage Filmstars jams, a sprawling, dubbed out dronescape, every single note, every melody, every voice, transformed by malfunctioning effects into streaks of otherworldly sound, like a way more dubbed out Wolf Eyes in places, a sort of heaving, crumbling industrial crunch, but way more spaced out, and ominous, more creepy and cinematic, and WAY more witchy.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES! Super striking eye popping full color covers.
We've slowly been dipping into the impressive catalog of Debacle Records, and pretty much everything we've heard so far has ruled, the recently reviewed Blackout cd-r by space psych explorers Expo 70, and the synth and vocal bliss drone excursions of The Slaves, and now this, the most recent record from Megabats, whose pun titled cd-r offers up a selection of sounds that definitely fit pretty perfectly between both The Slaves and Expo 70, as well as other spaced out electronic weirdos like Fuck Buttons and Oneohtrix Point Never and Pulse Emitter, a sort of sci-fi synth drone tethered to pulsing minimal electro, and then blurred into hazy expanses of far out shimmery drone flecked electro synth throb, that manages to be energizing and urgent, while somehow remaining blissed out and spacey and oh so hypnotic.
The 'beats' are buried underneath thick layers of synth buzz, the beat usually a barely audible pulse, a sort of heroin house underwater rhythm, skeletal and spare, there less for propulsion or groove, and more for an anchor, a mesmerizing metronomic center, which entrances and enthralls, as the layers of buzz and thrum slowly wrap themselves around you and fill your ears with liquid warmth.
Total late night drugged out, sun rise chill out drift off soundscapery, every track here is epic and repetitive and hypnotic, many ditching the pulse completely and instead unfurling lush landscapes of glistening glimmering synthy shimmer, sun dappled sheets of spacey swirl, culminating in the title track, which takes all of the above, and adds a strangely ominous vibe, cinematic and darkly sinister, a fuzzy low end drone drifting beneath crystalline melodies and hushed buzzy blur, the two elements inexorably linked, a darkly beautiful bit of soundtracky synth swell, haunting but also weirdly spacey and soothing, a brooding new age spacesynth finish to a pretty fantastic collection of otherworldly, electro zoner-drone drone-drift bliss!
We all went a little crazy for the debut from Portland doomlords Megaton Leviathan, whose particular brand of doom was on the poppy, melodic, washed out and dreamy side of the doom spectrum. So much so that we felt obligated to come up with a new term for their sound, 'soft doom', when we made their cd a Record Of The Week. And we still can't get enough of these guys' woozy, spacey slowcore laced, drone flecked soft doom. So we were psyched to discover a brand new cassette, their newest demo, a teaser for their forthcoming full length, and if anything, the 'softness' of their doom has been transformed into something more like spaciness this time around. At least on the opening track, that sounds like Hawkwind crossed with Spacemen 3 and slowed down to a plodding, nodding dirge, hazy squalls of wah guitar, sung/spoken vocals, everything drenched in effects, shards of vocals, slivers of guitars, sent spinning into space trailing streaks of echo and reverb and delay, a sprawling drug rock space drone epic, that rivals most of the other bands out there who set their controls for space rock. In the case of Megaton Leviathan, it somehow sounds more organic, like their quest for slo-mo soft doom heaviness just somehow ended up here.
And as the record plays on, it becomes evident that the first track was no fluke, the doom almost entirely replaced by drugged out space rock and psychedelic slowcore, sure it's still dark and heavy, and slow and dirgey and okay, a bit doomy, but it's way less 'doom' and way more washed out, woozy, lysergic, hazy, gauzy, hypno-dronerock, repetitive, and cyclical, and hypnotic, the production simultaneously lush and lo-fi, the distortion cranked way up, but instead of making it heavy, it makes the sounds crumble and wash out and crystallize, making the overall sound seem that much more warm and rough and organic, especially when the band slips into slow spaciness, all low slung bass, melodic guitar echoes, and big drums, lumbering and loose, the sort of thing Three Mile Pilot were masters of in the old days, loads of space, all held together by sinewy basslines and krauty rhythms, and then the guitars come back in, and again, we're well past doom, the sound lifting free of the surface, and drifting heavenward, somehow mixing Hawkwind, Codeine, Low, Spacemen 3, Loop, a little doom, lots of drugs, and even more effects, into the sort of thing that should have fans of the current crop of space rockers (Wooden Shjips, Carlton Melton, White Hills, Moon Duo, Heads, Lumerians, White Noise Sound) losing their shit.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES. Each one hand numbered, and record on swank reflective gold cassettes.
Two quietly busy sound-artists wrangled together a not-so quiet album of unstable electro-acoustics. Ben Owen is a NYC based sound artist we have been familiar with over the years, in part due to his work running the always impressive Winds Measure Recordings label, complete with some exceptional letterpressed packaging to house the hushed minimalism and subtle field recordings. Monteiro Alfredo Costa is one of those artists who's been very prolific throughout the European sound-art / improv circles but is something of a mystery to us. His work purports to share an interest in low-fi technologies and unstable processes - with crappy tape decks, feedback systems, found objects, and old record players working into his repertoire of electro-acoustics. It is a model of instability that seems the modus operandi for this collaboration with pierced tones of variably sourced feedback wavering upon that high-tension wire between sonic evaporation and sonic obliteration. These oblique, ear-ringing hums couple with microwave sizzlings, deadened electrical buzzes and gravel-crusted static to form chunks of sound that butt up against one another. Compared to the brutalist agenda of Merzbow, Prurient, The Rita, etc, this would hardly qualify as a noise record, as the compositions are thoroughly detached from any overt confrontation, but these grey rumbles and bright rattlings can get quite noxious. One can think of Joe Colley, Chop Shop, or Kevin Drumm during their introspective ruminations on electro-acoustics and noise disintegration. Released on the small Contour Editions imprint, run by the very talented Richard Garet. Limited to 150 copies.
