One could be excused for thinking that a new cd from Acid Mothers Temple might be surplus to requirements... yet, while that's for each individual to determine, it must also be said that prolific as these Japanese psych purveyors are (and this isn't even the only new AMT we have, there's another that's a collaboration with Italian band Stearica), there's been nary a dud in their discography.
This one is probably a must for serious fans, since it's devoted to their longtime live staple, an extended track entitled "Pink Lady Lemonade". They've recorded it before, but this is intended as the definitive version. Presented here in four distinct parts, the total piece over 66 minutes long. It's quite a trip, with repetitive chiming guitar, freeform freakouts, sci-fi sound FX, and lots of droned-out whoosh... another endless hour and then some, trance-time well spent with the Acid Mothers!
Nice packaging/design, in a colorful digipack, the cover art oriented in sideways fashion.
Yet another new band looks back to the eighties, this East Coast boy / girl duo is all about THAT decade, but unlike the hordes of lo-fi weirdos whose take on that sound is warped and woozy and fractured and fucked up, Acrylics seem to be approaching that same sound with their heart in hand, or on sleeve, with a genuine reverence for the synth pop that so defined our growing up. Like a less shoegazey M83, these two take teen angst and teenage growing pains, and translate them into mixtape (not cd) worthy retro dream pop. Opener "Counting Sheep" is moody and wistful, the boy girl vocals perfectly balancing the swoonsome synths and the handclap percussion, it's almost like a eighties prom slow dance slow jam. And while the rest of the rest of the record evokes the same mood and vibe, the more propulsive tracks conjure up walking hand in hand home from school, or driving with the top down for a weekend trip to the city, the sound and songs here are strangely romantic, much like their labelmates Violens, but not nearly as avant or edgy, instead conjuring up pure retro pop dreaminess.
"The Window" is a sweet bit of bedroom folkiness, with subtly soaring strings, and some sweet boy/girl harmonies, "Sparrow Song" glistens and sparkles like the soundtrack to every movie montage ever made, "Nightwatch" is some old school jangle pop, and "Tortoise Shell Shades" is like the Raveonettes with some of the buzz and fuzz peeled back, while "It's Cool Here" is a warm intimate strummy bit of acoustic slowcore folk, and "Asian Pear" is another bit of brooding romantic strum heavy electro fuzz pop�
It's easy to imagine this being way too earnest for the lo-fi lysergic eighties obsessives, but if M83 and the Raveonettes and that sort of classic retro /electro pop is your thing, you will no doubt dig Acrylics.
Latest from these sunshiney new age krautfolk drifters, a trio featuring our very own Scott Hewicker, along with Jefre Cantu (Tarentel, Root Strata) and Alexis Georgopoulos (Arp), The Alps' Easy Action is record number five if you're keeping track, although it's not in fact exactly a proper full length, instead, it's a bit of a collaged inbetweener, a gorgeous, surprisingly noisy at times, druggy and deliriously delightful hodgepodge assembled from various sources, old tapes from past sessions, unused takes from their last record Le Voyage, a handful of new recordings, as well as various other sounds, all meticulously assembled in the studio into a pretty fantastic record.
As mentioned above, the sound here is not nearly as laid back and soft focus as Le Voyage. That record definitely found the band in full on meandering mode, the guitars were jangly, the rhythms subtle and minimal, when there were rhythms, the noise was kept to a minimum, it was all about tone and timbre, ambience and atmosphere, the propulsion seemingly an afterthought, the band happy to let the songs drift lazily, but if a rhythm did surface, the band would just let that rhythm guide them, until it eventually wound down, leaving the band to drift ever onward. But here, the sound is actually a bit fierce, and a little dark. The opener starts with a cloud of swirling textures and hushed effects, muted melodies, and little flecks of buzz and glitch, but it's not long before a black cloud of grinding distortion and hissing electronics threaten to swallow up the other sounds, the song is transformed into a swirling bit of soft noise chaos, culminating in a strange stuttery glitched out finale. Wow. As if that weren't enough, the second track too delivers some powerful drumming, laid over some tangled steel string guitar, and some buzzing psychedelic guitar, a guitar that gets wilder and noisier as the track progresses before everything drops out leaving just the guitar unwinding a swirling cloud of FX heavy freakout.
And so it goes, "Pink Orange" is more of a interlude, a looped bit of processed guitar, but then "For Isabel" drifts in with its seventies folk guitar, but then suddenly glitches out, as some strange bits of studio buzz swoop in, the gorgeous looped guitar figure wreathed in a cloud of hiss and buzz, and rapidly expanding crunch, good stuff for sure, just surprisingly intense.
"Loves Of A Blonde" is a sprawling bit of abstract droney drift, some steel string buzz, some muted percussion, more crunchy distorted guitar noise, a sort of abstract raga, underpinned by dark piano chords, everything wreathed in gristly bits of static, eventually, all the noise fading out, leaving just some sitar like buzz and some echoey piano, the prettiest stretch on the record thus far. The title track dabbles in some dub, adding a little reggae inflection to a loping slo-mo krautrock groove, the guitars warm and shimmery, the bass sinewy and melodic, but even here, the band lay a thick bit of crunchy, lo-fi guitar fuzz over the otherwise tranquil proceedings, which we quite like, and definitely adds a needed edge to the otherwise placid drift underneath.
The rest of the record unwinds similarly, with the band taking the more serene and melodic elements and fusing them to strange studio misfires, and random, but fantastic bits of noisiness, tinkling looped melodies, that seems to fluctuate wildly within a field of hyperactive static, transforming a shimmery sleepy loop into a mysterious bit of crumbling crunch. They take a break on the hushed and crystal clear solo guitar outing "Reflections For Peter Green", only to slip right back into it with the nearly 10 minute "Instant Light" which was previously released on the super limited Root Strata cd-r A Path Through The Sun), a track that builds slowly, lush steel string strums drifting beneath whirling bits of distant ambience, definitely channeling the spirit of Le Voyage, but the band pile on some lush, effulgent guitar buzz, and some keening layered guitardrones, filling the sky with warm sonic streaks, while underneath the sound continues to drift along melodically, a practically perfect balance between the dreamy old and the more abrasive new, before finishing off with a brief 2 minute swirl of whirling, swirling, blurred and smeared, echo drenched new age shimmer. So good. And a bit of a sonic surprise. Which has us wondering if their next proper studio full length will find the band incorporating some of this new found, more 'difficult' audio experimentation. We sure hope so!
Super limited, and packaged in a super elaborate fold out psychedelic pyramid sleeve, designed by artist Tauba Auerbach, that is easily one of the coolest things we've seen.
Includes a download code as well.
The strangely named duo Applehead is in fact one part the duo (?) Anworth Kirk (which we're pretty sure is at least one part former Record Of The Weekers Demdike Stare (also a duo, confused yet?)), and Applehead's debut record is the second release on Pre-Cert, a label run by Finders Keepers' Andy Votel and the guys in Demdike Stare, focusing on, according to the label themselves, contemporary musical and nonmusical material, referencing research libraries/VHS video culture/electronic Folkways records/sound poetry/tape manipulation/European fumetti/outsider art/field recording and more. Essentially, the music on Pre-Cert, and specifically this new one by the mysterious Applehead, is in fact, some seriously twisted, far out, faux seventies Italo disco soundtrack music. At least that's what we're getting from all that. A heady collection of heavy fuzzed out grooves, strange voices, creepy ambience, all woven into what sounds like the score to the greatest, and creepiest, seventies giallo you've never seen.
The record begins with some haunting, soundtracky murk, all buried melodies, muted buzz and crunch, over which a reverbed female voice intones some mysterious message in some foreign language, all the while ominous chords ring out, until BAM, in swoops a fat funky Italo disco groove, super distorted and gloriously fuzzy, the synths heavy and in-the-red, wah guitars, but the sound is strangely washed out, the groove surrounded by streaks of ghostly shimmer, clouds of effects, the end result is a killer krautrock / space rock sci-fi funk.
The record is peppered with strange little interludes, more of that voice, like a snippet from a film, woven into creepy swirling ambience, blurred minimal dronemusic, but it's not long before the next groove comes in, and it's another buzz drenched bit of giallo style faux soundtrack funkiness, dubbed out percussion, tinkling melodies, complete with terrified gasps and shrieks of females in peril. The A side wraps up with a heavy slice of organ driven haunted house moodiness, that definitely had us thinking Goblin, Zombi, Umberto and the rest of those sci-fi retro futurists.
The flipside offers up more of the same, some pulsing thrum that gives way to another blast of seventies horror funk, chuggy wah wah guitars, muscly drums, creepy minor key melodies, spectral howls super distorted synth buzz, all woven into a heavy organ kraut-funk groove. Finally the record winds down with what is the perfect Italo horror score, another woozy groove, funky and slinky, low slung and slithery, a little dubby, a little disco-y, wreathed in a spectral haze, and rife with haunting melodies, a serious slab of classic John Carpenter style seventies style suspenseful soundtrackiness.
Awesome stuff, and WAY recommended for anyone into the current crop of sci-fi soundtrackers and retro Goblin worshippers, as well as the various strains of modern hauntological soundscaping (a la Demdike Stare)...
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!
Astrobrite is the candy-colored, shoegaze-pop project fronted by Scott Cortez, who's better known for his snowblinded guitar driftscapes in Lovesliescrushing. At one time, Astrobrite was a trio, but Cortez soon adopted the name for his own use; this album appears to be one of the Cortez-only incarnations of Astrobrite, originally released on cd by Clair Records in 2001. For both Lovesliescrushing and Astrobrite, Cortez' guitarwork follows all the great shoegaze guitar impressionists - My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, Swervedriver, Ride, etc. - although both projects are the opposite sides of the same coin. Those Lovesliescrushing albums shed pretty much all of the song-structure from the classic shoegazing sound to amass endless waves of softly crushed smears of distortion and oceanic, narcotizing drones. Like Belong and Christian Fennesz, Lovesliescrushing seemed to be pondering what Kevin Shields might have done as an encore for Loveless, but within Astrobrite, Cortez indulges in pure mimesis of shoegaze bliss-pop at its finest. These blown out four-track recordings could easily be some lost set of MBV recordings circa 1989, complete with androgynous whispered vocal harmonies and whammy-bar tone bending. Given the recent retread of washed out noise-pop by way of Pains Of Being Pure At Heart and Beach Fossils, a revisitation into the sugarsmacked sound of Astrobrite makes a hell of a lot of sense. Bright translucent red vinyl and a download coupon complete the package. Nice!
We weren't the only ones to choose to freakout (hee hee) when we first heard this band's prior vinyl only release. We sold a ton of those and it seemed lots of you also became bigtime fans of BoF's ability to bring new life to a '90s indie rock sensibility. BoF combine an atmospheric approach to recording with songs that showcase different sides to their aesthetic, from moody bittersweet pop nuggets, to daydream anthems, to classic indie rock slacker vibrations. We dig how they remind us of some of the '90s more unsung indie rock greats like 764-Hero and Red Stars Theory, as well as tapping into the warmth and immediacy of modern day bands like Grizzly Bear and The Dodos. If you're feeling burnt out after so many lo-fi, warbled garage pop records, this lush and full sounding indie pop will be seriously refreshing and will no doubt be just what you were hankering for...
We've long been a fan of Bardo Pond, but this new record definitely took a few listens to get into. The response everyone seemed to have was "this sounds really WAY out of tune", and it does, sort of. Right from the outset, the group unfurl some woozy warbly strummy twang flecked psych folk, the strings buzzing and tangling, the melodies, shifting and intertwining, the vocals sounding sort of out of sync with the music, the bassline warped and underwater sounding, the drums an abstract scatter of beats, but as that first song continues, the vocals sink into the mire, harmonica begins to wheeze, the sounds of birds (?) surface, and the guitars, gradually grow more and more intense, first smoldering, before gradually catching fire, and finally exploding, and then the band are KILLING it, a huge squall of swirling, super distorted, wild and loose and chaotic druggy droned out psych guitar freakout, the drums pounding, everything twisted and sprawling and lit from within like some sort of sonic supernova, revealing the group's true purpose, the vocals returning, now sounding perfect, multitracked and nestled within the coruscating sheets of crumbling distortion and pealing blown out leads. The sort of epic dreamlike drugged out jam you never want to end. And that's how the band introduce their latest full length, their self titled their eighth proper full length, nearly two decades into their career, and they still sound as loose and free and psychedelic and heavy as ever. If not more so.
The rest of the record follows suit, "Don't Know About You" launches into a thick crusty chunky bit of riffage, the vocals witchy and snarly, the perfect match for the group's super distorted groove, everything still wreathed in streaks of effects and guitarnoise, and like the track before it, blossoming into some seriously heady psychedelia, surprisingly melodic too, the guitar tone epic, thick and blown out, almost Kyuss-y, that same sort of fuzz and crunch, and the more we listen, the more this sounds like BP at their most songy, sure most of the record is spent unfurling epic space out mega jams, but they're wrapped around dirgey downer pop, some weird hybrid of the Stooges, the Velvets and Crazy Horse, but dosed and doused and let loose, to billow up in great clouds of heaviness, of swirling trippiness. "Sleeping" offers a little respite, all hazy acoustic guitars and warm fluttering flutes, some woozy, acid folk drift, but it's not long before the band launch into the 21 minute "Undone", a warbly slow build, backwards guitars and angelic vox, all over simple folk strum, the track gradually expanding, the drums not even entering the picture until more than halfway through, but when they do, and the guitars finally let loose, it's glorious, the vocals crooning beneath clouds of lightning bolt guitar, and jagged shards of effects drenched melody.
"Cracker Wrist" might be the heaviest of the bunch, but it starts out deceivingly dreamy, all layered drones and gauzy shimmer, but after a few minutes, the riffs come fast and furious, locked tight with the pounding drums, a mesmerizing bit of krauty drone rock heaviness, again the guitars going wild, and wrapping everything in tangles of melody and fragmented drug drenched shred. "The Stars Behind" is another ballady number, but it wouldn't be BP if it too wasn't eventually enveloped by ropy blasts of grinding guitars, and soaring sheets of blown out psych swirl, the record finally finishing off with the comparatively tame "Wayne's Tune", all warbly melodies, angular guitars, shuffling drums, no big build, no explosive catharsis, instead, just hazy and droney and dreamily druggy.
After some initial (and unfounded it seems) trepidation, this is turning out to be one of the best Bardo Pond records in ages. Killer, very metal, cover art too, all black and silver with some strange black shapes and a new spidery drippy BP metal style logo!
There never seems to be any shortage of hype going around the music world. These days more than ever. And all too often those being hyped so much in the blogosphere world just never really deliver the goods to warrant all the hoopla. But every now and then a record comes along that totally does deserve all that attention, such is the case with this amazing album by James Blake. Immediately it reminds us of some amazing combination of several of our favorite records ever. Radiohead's Kid A, Burial's Untrue, Arthur Russell's Calling Out Of Context, and Antony & The Johnsons if they made a record produced by Massive Attack and Swarms.
Warm rushes of dubstep inspired backbeats meet gospel like vocal delivery, often auto-tuned but in such a moody and satisfying way. One of our customers who was going through a hard day when we had this playing in the store, came up to the counter and said "This is massaging my mind in ways I needed so badly." We can totally see where he was coming from. This is the kind of record made for melting, floating, and coming down softly.
Record number two from this Ukrainian black metal horde, fronted by Roman Saenko, who plays or played in some other bands you might be familiar with, Hate Forest, Drudkh, Dark Ages, Lucifugum, and featuring members of Kladovest, Astrofaes, Lutomysl, Definition Sane, it's like pretty much the whole Ukrainian scene is represented here. But Blood Of Kingu is definitely Saenko's baby, a seething, blasting, filthy, hateful black metal baby at that. Still focused thematically on Sumerian, Egyptian, Tibetan and Indo-Aryan mythologies, the big change this time around is sonic, a way heavier production, as well as more metal and less folky interludes. The first record, De Occulta Philosophia, was marked by ambient breaks between most of the tracks, rhythmic and abstract, folky and moody, a method that seemed more about atmosphere and vibe than sheer power, but if anything on Sun In The House Of The Scorpion, Blood Of Kingu has managed both, evoking mood and atmosphere big time, but cranking up the crush, the riffs are massive, the sound is epic, dense and thick, blurred and droney and trancelike. The vocals are deep and bellowed and shamanistic, the songs are cyclical and repetitive, ritualistic and totally hypnotic, thick slabs of crumbling buzz and relentlessly blasting beats, a howling furious heaviness that few other black metal outfits could ever hope to achieve. The bulk of the record is frantic and frenzied, but the various tracks are infused with haunting mysticism, swirling atmospheric ambience, even the grimmest blackest parts exuding a strange spiritual quality, culminating in an awesome cover of Beherit's "The Gate of Nanna" complete with chanted monk-like vocals, long stretches of plodding doomy dirge, blasts of insanely frantic blasting buzzing blackness, some seriously demented effects drenched demonic vokills and a suffocatingly grim and bleakly abject atmosphere, a killer cover truly worthy of the original.
Fantastic Zdzislaw Beksinski cover art (same guy who did the artwork that adorned Leviathan's Verrater)!! And dedicated to the memory of H.P Lovecraft, of course...
Br0wn Angel (yeah, that's Br0wn with a zero) hail from Pittsburgh, and offer up a heaving helping of blown out, super industrial metallic crunch, some strange hybrid of Godflesh, Author & Punisher, Big Black, and Jesu, but they add all sorts of unlikely stuff that makes this SO much more than just wannabe Streetcleaner. The opening track alone should have metaldrone obsessives in a trance, it's a blackened doomdrone raga, that finds these guys weaving a sprawling landscape of crumbling, superdistorted guitar crunch, a bit like SUNNO))) but way more melodic, infusing this blackened crawl with chiming melodies, strangely melodic seeing as they're set amidst barren fields of crumble and pound, the sound thick, gristly, but warm, and thick, and then the vocals come in, and they're quite unexpected, a monk-like chant, transforming the song into something way more ritualistic and spiritual, and we can tell you, if that first song had been stretched out to fill up both sides, we would have been pleased as punch, but instead, the band do get way more metallic and propulsive, the sound thickening into a sort of slowed down tarpit Austerity Program, thick guitars, lots of harmonics, streaks of feedback, starts and stops, ultra dynamic, sheets of guitar skree over black industrial creeps and proto industrial metal pummel, which again would have been just fine, but these guys continue to twist and tangle up their sound, occasionally launching into full on progged out math rock, but just as often slipping into some sort of super sludge death march, the interesting part is how those two sides bleed into that plodding, industrial core, creating a fucked up hybrid that is all their own.
LIMITED TO 150 COPIES!!! Packaged in super swank, metallic bronze silk screened covers, each on hand numbered, and each one with a random photograph insert.
The first new music from Burial in 4+ years, this one hardly needs a review at all, the master of dark moody soul inflected minimal dubstep does it again, with the murky melancholy "Street Halo", which ditches some of the more overt dubsteppiness of past records, for something a bit more techno flecked, the beat a muted four on the floor pulse, while the surrounding sounds remain appropriately washed out and dreamlike, some spectral soulful female vox just add to the vibe. We actually spun this at 33 the first few times, and holy shit, not sure if it's just us, but might sound even better that way, syrupy and witch house-y, total slo-mo cough syrup blackened dub electro drag. But even at the right speed of 45, it's pretty dang perfect, only a slight swerve from the dubbed out soul of Untrue.
"NYC" slows it way down, lacing some electro skitter and shuffling techno with a seriously dubbed out production and some sped up soul samples, spare and skeletal, wreathed in a late night, winding down, chill out haze. And finally "Stolen Dog" is a dubby downtempo electro soul ballad, with a super hooky main melody, warm swirling low end swells, a skittery beat buried in the mix, and still more vocal soul. So good.
Could be kinda limited, we're not sure, and the copies we got in this week have been going fast, so when/if we run out, be prepared. Hopefully we can get more sometime soon though.
Used to be that a single lp could contain the freaked out cloud of head tripping ear splitting sonic bliss unleashed by this sprawling basement psych rock collective, but it seems this time around, this latest batch of cosmic free rock drift, these new heart of the sun, lo-fi drug soaked jams, or more specifically, JAM singular, required more space, and thus spilled out onto 4 whole sides of vinyl. Which makes sense, this is the sort of stuff that benefits from time and space, especially SPACE, the band loose and ramshackle, obviously improvising, but equally obviously in tune with each other (each other being 9 members at this point we think, multiple guitarists, maybe multiple drummers, and a XYLOPHONIST last time we checked), and while maybe not as all out freaked out all the time as on past records, these guys have dialed into some serious spaced out krautrock heaviness/grooviness, sounding at some points like a noisier German Oak, or a way looser and wilder Amon Duul, the drums chaotic but propulsive, the guitars, ALL of them constantly unfurling thick peals and howls, spidery, chugging chords and warped harmonies, a massive psychedelic steel string, amp-melting tangle, all draped over a loose loping rhythmic framework. Long stretches of hypno rock dirge give way to loose free explorations of the outer reaches of psychedelia which in turn occasionally give way to dense gnarled bits of intense drum heavy psych, the guitars taking a backseat to some serious pound and crash, but it's not long before those guitars, ALL of them, swoop in and explode in another blast of blinding sonic effulgence. So good.
LIMITED TO JUST 99 COPIES, each one hand numbered, we have about TEN. Housed in beautiful silkscreened orange and green, eye popping ultra heavy gatefold sleeves, with paste on inner artwork!!
Post-release-from-incarceration record number two from the infamous Burzum, aka Varg Vikernes, and just like Belus before it, this IS pretty goddamn great, most definitely harkening back to the good old days, as in: Filosefem / Aske / Det Som Engang Var. In our review of Belus, we went on at length about the man, his shitty politics, his questionable sanity, his storied history, his checkered past (and present), but odds are, most metalheads are getting tired of the whole "Vikernes is an asshole", "his music sucks cuz his politics suck" thing. If you do want to get into that or maybe aren't actually up on the whole Burzum controversy, well, check that review, or just do a Google search and you'll be all caught up.
The funny thing about his previous disc Belus, besides it A) being really good, and B) being a proper black metal record, considering the two records Vikernes made in jail were super cheesy, all-synthesizer affairs (although supposedly, that owed to the fact that he wasn't allowed to have guitars in prison), was that it was SO much a Buzum record, that even the most casual fan hearing a snippet from Belus, would have immediately recognized it as Burzum, which is remarkable considering it had been exactly 14 years since the last proper Burzum black metal record. And in fact Allan here named that tune in about 5 notes when he heard it playing in the store - "this must be Burzum!" Not sure what that says about Burzum and Belus, a return to form, or a retrogression? Regardless, it sounded great, and we ended up digging it big time.
Fallen, while in many ways a logical follow up, and again, hugely beholden to Burzum past, mixes things up a bit, so while still distinctly Burzum, it's also a bit weirder, and not so easy to peg. Opener "Jeg Faller" begins with a total classic Burzum riff, brittle and buzzy, droned out and repetitive, epic and majestic, the drumming buried in the mix, then that riff is matched up with some awesomely woozy minor key arpeggiations, and weirdest of all, some strange sea shanty style crooning, at first, it's a bit off putting, but a few listens and it sounds pretty perfect. And that's pretty much the template for the whole record, frantic classic Burzum style riffing, seasick waltzy midtempo melancholia, the usual guttural vokills, but interspersed with some monk like chanting (or some full on proper crooning, like the surprisingly heartfelt vocals on "Budstikken", there laid over some frantic blackened riffing, a weird but effective combo), all the songs laced with ominous bits of spoken word, the arrangements super simple, and spare, and the production not hugely heavy or buzzy, instead again, a bit brittle and cold, lo-fi, but in a good way, a vibe and atmosphere that definitely suits the songs, and the sound.
The record finishes with a cool, minimal bit of ritualistic folkiness, all hand drums, strange percussion, detuned steel string strum, raspy wraith like whispers, and haunting mournful melodies.
We're sure there will be much debate about the merits of Fallen, the failings of Vikernes, the usual black metal politics and of course the degree of trueness or grimness involved here, but fuck it, at this point we're happy to just dig a record for the music, and we dig the music on Fallen a whole lot...
It sometimes seems a bit unfair to review a new Bill Callahan record right when it comes out, as he has made a career, both in his previous incarnation as Smog and solo, out of making deep rooted albums that really reveal themselves and enter your subconscious often only after many repeated listens.
To us, that's always the sign of a special songwriter, never being about the cheap easy route, but instead creating songs that you know will live in your life for so many years to come. With Apocalypse, there is no doubt this is another set of songs from Callahan that will sound as great years from now, as, well, now. With dark and moody undertones coming together with Callahan's strong voice, Apocalypse is an album that requires you to give it your full attention. It also highlights the twang and folk roots Callahan is so great at melding into something that always sounds forward thinking and not just an easy nod to the past.
While Will Oldham still gets more attention and praise as one of the best singer songwriters around, we still think that Callahan's output has maintained a level of excellence throughout the years, and makes him one of our favorite indie rock songwriters today.
A gorgeous blast of thick, warm, dreamily distorted, heady and heavy electric guitar raga from guitarist Tom Carter, he from the awesome Charalambides, here just unfurling fantastically melodic squalls of divinely twisted guitar wrangling, transforming his guitar and amp into some sort of electronic drone machine. At first it sounds like some dude with a guitar, but give it a second, as Carter weaves impossibly lush guitarscapes that sound like bagpipes or sruti boxes or synths or all three, looping melodies, pulsing rhythms, swirling textures, lush harmonies, reminds us a bit of a heavier more distorted Amps For Christ, in that Carter seems to be recasting classic folk and Appalachia via his own distinct vision. Folks into modern shamen and ritualist musical visionaries like Daniel Higgs or Zomes will find the same sort of blissed out, head trip nirvana here. Awesome.
LIMITED TO 120 COPIES.
A Crimson Grail is one of our favorite massive guitar ensemble compositions of all time, and now getting to hear a different version of it, recorded outdoors at the Lincoln Center with 200 guitarists brings us back once again to the totally sublime beauty of the piece. The way Chatham is able to compose and conduct that army of guitarists to be both so subtle and explosive at just the right moments is a testament to his talent, and another reminder that he really his one of the most exciting and incredible composers around. There is a patience in this piece that really allows you to slowly enter the zone, until you have no choice but to follow wherever the shimmering sounds of all these guitars take you.�
We're also glad for this release 'cause the previous recording of this piece, on Table Of The Elements, seems to be out of print these days. And extra cool is that our pal and WFMU music director Brian Turner was one of the guitarists at this performance, we can only imagine what a chill inducing experience it would be to be a part of creating this sonic beauty!
After two stunning full lengths of abstract ethereal dubstep, a sound utterly distinctive in a genre that seemed to be gradually growing more and more homogenous, comes this killer, super limited, 3 track remix 12" (which comes with a cd-r version as well), offering up 3 pretty dramatic reimaginings of two of our favorite Clubroot jams.
The first comes from a drum and bass producer called SPL, who takes the original and supercharges it, jacks it way up, and transforms it into a fucked up and fierce slab of buzzing dubstep, the beats jagged and booming, the bass thick and sinewy, and that low end wobble sooo thick it'll rattle your ribcage. Big blasts of buzz and wobble separated by stretches of washed out softly pulsing swirl, but EVERY time that bass drops, it just KILLS.
Up next is Bryan Zentz, a techno/dub producer, who keeps the mood of the original, just dubs it out a bit more, and adds a bunch of bass, but not that buzzing dubstep wobble, instead, just a warm whirring layer of thrum and throb, while the various beats get wreathed in echo and reverb, the whole track a bit more washed out and abstract, and the drops here too, manage to be just as dramatic, just more moody and minimal, and the bass, still manages to get the woofers woofing.
Finally, Vancouver dubstepper Kuma takes the original, and somehow manages to make it even more ghostly and haunting, all shadows and slow shifting textures, the dubbed out bass dialed way back, the ambience pushed to the fore, the whole vibe laid back, woozy and warbly, a bit foreboding and soundtracky, perfectly complimenting the original. Rare is the remix record where they all get it right, changing it enough to make it worthwhile, but without losing the spirit of the original...
Not sure how limited this is, but we do know it's already gone, we got about 15 copies, and we can NOT get more, so grab one while you can. Housed in a plain black sleeve, with a little built in pocket for the cd-r.
This new one from cold wave gloom poppers Cold Cave definitely threw us for a loop at first. Although really, we shouldn't have been all that surprised, as the sound of Cold Cave has definitely seemed to be moving away from the underground for a while now. And it seems this is the record where they're finally going for it. Big time. The sounds are essentially the same, classic eighties synth pop, but here, that sound is delivered with such vitriol and bombast. And given such a massive shiny production, and hell even the songs are poppier and catchier and more commercial sounding. Folks were shocked when Cold Cave's "Life Magazine" wound up on a Radioshack commercial, and Cherish The Light Years takes that whole thing a step further, positioning themselves as a sort of stadium rock version of their former selves. It's still gloomy synth pop, but now the synths are epic and majestic, the arrangements too, and the vocals, even more dramatic and strident and ready to lead sing alongs at Madison Square Garden. If you didn't know this was Cold Cave, you might confusionally cycle through the various possibilities: Interpol, Maximo Park, The National, The Editors, yeah, seems weird, and it is, but this is the new Cold Cave, stadium rock era Depeche Mode merged with the new wave of, well new wave. We've seen folks mention New Order, and even Scott Walker, and those definitely could apply, but the Depeche Mode vibe is huge, imagine classic DM with a super modern production, and that's pretty much Cherish The Light Years. Lots of folks around here hated this at first, but once you get over the disappointment that there won't be any more Cold Cave records like Love Comes Close, and just embrace this new sound, this is actually pretty rad.
With the arrival of Combat Astronomy's fourth album, welcome once again to that unlikely alternate universe inhabited by us at Aquarius Records (and a few others too, like you?), where this intense instrumental outfit is as HUGE as their sonic footprint, their ultra-heavy hybrid of avant garde jazz and post metal industrial doom resounding planetwide in giant concert halls... if 21st century classical chamber deathjazz sludge were the next big thing, they'd be the biggest.
Whereas, heck, in real life, we don't even know if they tour, probably not, since some of the group live in England, with another crucial band member based here in the USA. When they get together (however they do it) it must be a cathartic experience for everyone involved. As they say themselves about this album, it's "LOUD BASS LOUD HORNS LOUD DRUMS MASSIVE RIFFS" all the way. Well, with some quasi-ambient interludes, and bits of melody amidst the mayhem. But for the most part, thick drone, rumbling bass, punishing programmed rhythms, screaming horn blurt. It's kinda like if Godflesh were to record an album for Tzadik, armed with an arsenal of horns and woodwinds. Combat Astronomy use and abuse a variety of saxophones and clarinets, various flutes, bassoon, bass recorder, reindeer horn (?), along with fretless 5 string bass, organ, electronics, zither, tambourine...
On Flak Planet, the formula has been perfected. The disc's opening track "The Stone Tape", is both cinematic and assaultive, it's jazz, but for the squelching sub bass and trudging jackboot rhythms. As the disc spins, there's outbursts of maniacal piano, jarring prog complexities, stretches of exotic atmospheric drone, and more monolithic thud.
Brutal yet beautiful, as we've said before, for fans of 16-17 (natch) as well as, we'd bet, possibly PIVIXKI, Master Musicians of Bukkake, Ehnahre, and assorted RIO ensembles.
Interested in a "UK Public Enemy"?! Read on...
Gotta admit, until this new collection on Rephlex label came out, we'd never heard of late '80s / early '90s "Britcore" hip hop crew The Criminal Minds (formed 1985) before, nor for that matter any of the other UK rappers mentioned as The Criminal Minds' contemporaries in Rephlex's blurb for this release, like Hijack, Silver Bullet, and the Demon Boyz. When we think of hip hop from England we think of groups like Bomb The Bass, although we're more familiar with the grime stuff, more recent artists like Dizzy Rascal, Lethal Bizzle, and Lady Sovereign. But this is old school rap, a reissue of some super rare tracks by this legendary, if obscure group whom we're guessing might have been named after the B.D.P. album.
Initially, we were curious about The Criminal Minds 'cause we were told they sounded like a UK version of Public Enemy, and that's a pretty accurate description! Their dramatic, hectic mix of rhythms and rhyming is definitely a lot like a Bomb Squad production, dense with (doubtlessly uncleared) samples, sirens wailing, funky drum breaks, plenty of turntable scratching whip whip wap, and even the use of a newscaster-like voiceover, delivering "This just in..." updates about the doings of the MC Iceski, DJ Halo, Chase 1, DJ Spatts, and associates. So for sure this will remind you of PE, although none of The Criminal Minds has the powerful stentorian voice of Chuck D, or the colorful personality of Flavor Flav, of course. But T.C.M.'s MCs are verbally adept, with a rapidfire old school flow, though.
We're getting nostalgic listening to this, even though we'd never heard it before. Just kinda neat to have some "new" old school hip hop with that apocalyptic Bomb Squad vibe, that at the same time is fresh and different (to us) being British and all. It's all very rough and raw and DIY, and being from England they incorporate some dancehall stylings here and there. Also they have a penchant for what sound like samples from classical music - or soundtracks - an obvious one being their use of John Williams' "Imperial March" Darth Vader theme from Star Wars! Gotta love that.
After a little internet research, we've determined that the tracks on the main disc here are mostly taken from The Criminal Minds' first two 12"s, their 1990 debut Guilty As Charged and its 1991 follow up Tales From The Wasteland (from whence the cover art for this Rephlex anthology comes). Both eps were self-released, bedroom productions, with very few copies pressed - originals sell for hundreds and hundreds of dollars these days. The bonus disc appears to contain more demos, remixes, and unreleased tracks, but it's also got a couple cuts from the Tales From The Wasteland 12", not sure why it's organized like this, or why this is a "bonus" disc, with a tracklisting only given for the main one. All very mysterious, which leads us to our only real complaint, no liner notes. C'mon, Rephlex! If you're gonna reissue this stuff, why not let us know a little something about it? Basically, though, what you're getting here are all the group's crucial back catalog tracks, remastered to boot.
Right on. Now we've gotta find some Hijack and Silver Bullet records too...
FYI, the above review is of the 2cd version, we're also listing the limited edition double vinyl, which contains just 9 of the 25 tracks found on the cds, but it's the only way to get 'em on wax without spending a fortune.
Long before the New Pornographers, there was another pop band we were all gaga for, called Zumpano, fronted by Carl Newman (of the New Pornos), but named for their drummer, Jason Zumpano. While the NP's went on to great fame and success, Zumpano stayed behind, doing his own idiosyncratic thing, playing in his solo piano pop combo Sparrows, various solo projects, playing in Destroyer and Loscil, and now you can add the oddly monikered The Cyrillic Typewriter to that list.
We could never figure out why Zumpano weren't more huge than they ended up being, we sorta liked them more than the NP's, we can only think, it was just a bit too weird, and that's sort of a hallmark of Zumpano's various projects, that no matter how poppy or traditional or whatever they are, they're also, sorta weird. Which we imagine is what makes pretty much everything he does so appealing. Thus we have the Cyrillic Typewriter, that was described to us by Zumpano as his new pop combo, which is it, but guess what, it's also pretty weird. A sort of lush, orchestral, baroque, experimental string and piano driven chamber pop. Or something. We found ourselves hearing hints of Destroyer, Deerhoof, Xiu Xiu, Deerhunter, the Decemberists, Elephant Six, but also Cardinal, the Rollo Treadway, and of course the Zombies, Bee Gees, Beatles and the like. But again, twisted up a bit, and made a little bit weird!
The drums are restrained, often just a sort of martial snare, underneath lush pianos, and lovely strings, the vocal harmonies gorgeous too, but not typical at all, which is reflected by the band often slipping in atonal angular chords and melodies, there is lots of percussion too, the sound slipping from fifties pop to more sixties summery shimmer, from mournful ballads to bouncy sunshiney jangle. The strings make all the breaks sound more like chamber music, and add some gravitas to the proceedings, and unlike the bombast of Zumpano (the band), the sound here is much more measured, plenty of flutter and jangle and shuffle, a sort of avant retro orchestral dream pop that is definitely hitting the spot.
Fans of any of the above mentioned bands, or anyone into cool weird pop, this is for YOU.
LIMITED TO 175 COPIES, each one hand numbered, pressed on super thick vinyl with hand stamped labels, housed in super heavy jackets, each with a printed insert on nice heavy textured paper.
Another batch of new tapes from the UK cassette label The Tapeworm, and even less to go on background wise with many of them this time around. Deceh is apparently a duo, which counts drone combo duo among their membership (of two), which is strange since we were fairly sure that there were at least two members of Eleh. Regardless, this is some hushed, gorgeous ULTRA ULTRA minimal dronemusic. Long form dronescapes woven from Hammond organ and sruti box, or more specifically, according to the liner notes, "A close study of the harmonic composition of a Hammond organ and a sruti box with attention given to the organization of isolated frequencies and the effects of these vibrations on brain activity." Which leads us to believe, based on the near static pulsations, and at times barely audible undulations, that the brain activity in question is some sort of deep deep trance. Soft overtones, barely there slow shifting sonic colorations, at times so simple and austere it almost sounds like it's just the buzz of the tape mechanism itself, but at other times, the compositions blossom into something much more lush, and dreamily melodic. Most often hovering somewhere right in between, layered and lush, a tranquil sea of hum and thrum, underpinned by microscopic pulsations, a barely there propulsion, these lengthy inner space explorations shifting ever so gently from krautdrone new age ambient drift to pure tone sine wave shimmer. Lovely.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES!!
Every month, if you're a metalhead, you should be reading both Decibel from the USA and Terrorizer from the UK. Here's the latest Decibel, with a striking black & white & shiny silver cover pic of Pentagram vocalist (and vintage hipster fashion plate) Bobby Liebling, in honor of the big feature story inside about his "resurrection" with the recent return of his venerable doom metal band, who have managed to both astonish and appall with their live shows. Definitely an interesting read, that article. Also this issue, lots more cool metal content, including stuff about these bands: Kylesa, Gridlink, Krallice, Darkest Hour, Grand Magus, Belphegor, and more. Plus the usual reviews, news, and amusing columns (indie rockers might be surprised to find John "Mountain Goats" Darnielle has a regular spot in Decibel). Also there's a report from the recent Scion Rock Fest down in LA. And Burzum's Filosofem is inducted into the Decibel Hall Of Fame, another very interesting feature, and a great pick.
The crude cover painting is sorta psychedelic, and though this album dates from 1982, the breathless obi text claims this to be the work of an "unknown brilliant all original outsider loner singer songwriter who completely sounds trapped in 1972 not '82!!", so we kinda had to check it out, being big Bobb Trimble fans after all, who also fits that description. But, we were also a bit wary, 'cause while it's true that the reissue label Riverman, based in South Korea, HAS put out some pretty cool stuff - including the George-Edwards Group and Ted Lucas discs we've reviewed recently - they also have reissued a lot of things that, uh, we don't quite "get". They seem to have a thing for American '70s singer-songwriter soft rock, maybe it's more "exotic" for them than it is for us, but a lot of their catalog seems to consist of justly-forgotten thrift store mediocrities that we have a hard time understanding why collectors (in Korea or elsewhere) care about. But yeah, once in a while they nail it. So we're always curious about their reissues, hoping they'll come up with a really amazing, acid folk obscurity or something like that. Plus they sure look good in their mini-lp style sleeves, with beguiling blurbs on their obis - that, again, they rarely really live up to. However, guess what? Peter Elizalde's oddly titled Winter Playground Mystery, kinda actually does! There is certainly something "outsidery" about it, that's for sure. Your mileage may vary, indeed ours already has, some of us here are totally digging on this (enjoying it a bit ironically, maybe, but for reals too), others like Andee gave it the gong...
Here's the deal. While there's elements of psych and prog here, what this really is, is "yacht rock"! Outsider yacht rock, but yes, yacht rock. Even though it's from '82, the Berkeley-based Elizalde, an obviously talented multi-instrumentalist, was super into seventies soft rock and jazz fusion, and we figure exceedingly influenced by the likes of Todd Rundgren and Steely Dan. So, much of this is synth laden, sprightly '70s sounding AM radio pop, with, naturally, the occasional cheesy saxophone solo. And oh boy is it poppy, these songs sound like hits that never happened, y'know, totally like they should be familiar, and in fact soon will get stuck in your head... yet they're just a bit weird and warped at the same time. In part that's 'cause Elizalde has an ever so slightly strange singing voice, often oddly high and nasal, which might have to do with the fact that he grew up in Peru, perhaps that's a little trace of a Spanish accent we're hearing? Or more likely he was a big Al Jarreau fan. Besides that, this disc is also full of surprises. For instance, track 5, "Passion Play", an exuberantly uptempo, POP-PUNK song that we definitely weren't expecting, which would have opened the original lp's second side with a bang. Really cool though, especially with its slightly incongruous keyboard lines, like some sort of super happy new wave. The wild guitar soloing on this one is also pretty choice. Later on, the album's big finale, "Day Dreamer", is another stop-and-stare-at-your-stereo number. It's one of the catchiest cuts on the record, with high pitched Bee Gees style vocal harmonies, but Elizalde also cranks up the distortion on his guitar, and also indulges in some over the top synth soloing, turning the track into a burnin' jazz fusion freakout by the end of its rather proggy 7+ minutes! Wow.
Overall this album is an eccentric mix of goofy pop pleasures, synth shred, and moments of truly emotional beauty. We also wonder if the several songs with a lyrical focus on winter, are somehow part of an exercise in Beach Boys/Brian Wilson emulation, but just about the opposite season to summer?
Well, you'll either love this or hate it, if the AQ staff is anything to go by. Enough of us love it, though, to suggest you open your heart to it, those of us here who did are happier for it. If we're gonna listen to "yacht rock", this gets our boat afloat... Though Elizalde is no Bobb Trimble, this is still pretty cool, and catchy, and quirky, and equally kitschy.
To look at the personnel line-up of Evil Madness, you probably wouldn't know what to expect. There's the melancholy composer Johann Johannsson with a number of acclaimed cinematic records on 4AD. There's the bleak-minded drone specialist BJ Nilsen and his long-time collaborators Stillupsteypa. And there's another Icelander dude named Petur Eyvindsson, who has some oddball releases under the name DJ Musician. Given that, the punchy discotheque grooves of Evil Madness are way out of left-field and totally great. Italo disco, minimal wave / EMB, anthemic Detroit techno circa 1988, John Carpenter's paranoiac synth arpeggiations, lots of analogue synth worship, and pre-fab electronic beats all come together underneath the stoic yet tongue-in-cheek banner of Evil Madness. We suspect that Sigtryggur from Stilluppsteypa has quite a lot to do with this one, given the electro-breaks that would occasionally slap in the face of his seriously minded crackled dronemuzik; no matter who's responsible, both sides of Super Great Love are brilliantly hedonistic mash-ups of vintage synth stabs, stupidly good anthemic electronic melodies, and plenty cybernetic Moroder sequences, spiralling upon techno, disco, and electro rhythms. Super Great Love is actually the fourth record by Evil Madness, with their other releases coming out through the poorly distributed 12 Tonar label and the dada-fetish imprint Ultra Eczema, so this album on Editions Mego should garner a broader audience for Evil Madness (they'll be releasing a cd version eventually too). Fans of Majeure, Umberto, K-X-P, and the Oneohtrix Point Never sideproject Games would be well served to check this out!
This has actually been out for a while, and we've been meaning to review it, 'cause Father Befouled are a) pretty rad, and b) feature members of some other bands we know y'all like. Both dudes from doom-death duo Encoffination (Ghoat and Elektrokutioner) are in Father Befouled - with, as you know, Elektrokutioner also being integral to the recently reviewed likes of Decrepitaph and Wooden Stake, etc. Also, Chad Davis of Hour Of 13 and US Christmas, used to play drums in Father Befouled before Elektrokutioner joined (and after, sadly, the previous drummer committed suicide).
If you're into elegantly filthy, old skool, downtempo death metal, you're probably already aware of Father Befouled. This is their 2nd full-length but they've done lots of splits and eps as well, and have made a name for themselves in the retro-death underground, worshiping such '90s gods as Incantation and, well, mostly Incantation. And that's ok with us 'cause we loved the slowed-down death metal sound of Incantation back in the day. This also reminds us of a slower, sludgier Morbid Angel, and not just 'cause of the album's title. The vertigo-inducing, feedback drenched lurchery of these songs, laced with sick, sea-sawing guitar licks, is the main reason those acts come to mind. It's got that dismal, blasphemous, ancient atmosphere all right. An onslaught of distortion and battery and guttural vokills that sounds like the smashing of holy idols, with guitars chunking and scraping as if they're being used to dig up and desecrate graves, that sort of thing. Seriously pummeling some of the time, but then also, alternately, slowly grinding through ultra-doomic interludes (like the middle part of "Christless Mass" for instance). Nice. Or not so nice. But you know what we mean. Recommended to Incantation and Encoffination and most other "-tion" fans for sure!
Freaky early '70s psych rock from Japan here folks, as you may know already on account of how we highlighted the reissue of this band's second album on our last list. This one, with a truly hard-to-beat title, was Flied [sic] Egg's debut, released originally in 1972, on Vertigo -- with Flied Egg one of the few, if not only, Japanese acts to appear on the roster of that legendary UK-based label known for proto-metal, jazz-prog and other "hairy funk" delights. This album dishes such delights all over the place, ranging from the Blue Cheer meets Uriah Heep heaviness of "Rolling Down The Broadway" to the weird choral interlude of "15 Seconds Of Schizophrenic Sabbath" to the classical prog flourishes of "Oke-Kus" (sounding like a warped version of ELP) to the sheer hippie psych-pop lunacy of the title track. And more! All in all, this is quite as crazy as its Dali-esque cover painting indicates. Definitely an essential for our Japanese '70s psych section, and anyone who loves them some acid rock guitar!
Must suck to be Ghast, considering that pretty much every review has to start with "not to be confused with the OTHER Ghast", so it probably sucks for the OTHER Ghast too. But in this case, we're not talking about the Welsh black doomlords, we're talking about the Quebecois black doomdronedirge horde Ghast, with an umlaut over the 'A', whose sound is a much more raw and filthy proposition, droned out and blackened, and who strangely enough seem to only release splits. Their first with avant black metal weirdos Yoga, their second with blacknoize horde Rape-X, and now, this one, a brand new split with Japanese ultra doom sludge outfit Zombie Blasphemy.
As always, Ghast do not disappoint, offering up two lengthy slabs of abject, nihilistic slow motion creep, lumbering, lurching, troglodytic crush, the guitars massive sprawls of low end buzz, feedback everywhere, like Eyehategod doused in (more) cough syrup, a funeral crawl, a throbbing cloud of buzz and thrum, the vocals a beastly grunted howl, way off in the distance, keening high end skree plays out a melody stretched out over minutes, the riffing glacial and oozing and black, the track gathering momentum eventually, but peaking at a plod. Somehow, the other Ghast track is even MORE minimal and abstract, loose drumming laid over a haze of feedback and amp buzz, distant sirens, almost ambient, no riffs, just soft swirls of guitar noise, and some strange mewled vox, all the while the drums pounding sporadically and erratically, the last few minutes, the various strands seeming to come together to form something much more dense and droney, still black and abstract, but a strange sort of chanted sludge raga ritual. Awesome.
We had never heard Japanese sludgelords Zombie Blasphemy before, but much like their sonic compatriots in Coffins, they traffic in slow and low extreme doom, with an awesome guitar sound, so distorted it sounds like your speakers are fried, the vocals an impossibly guttural grunt, this is Moss / Corrupted style doom, but even more sludgey and crusty, the guitars occasionally offer up wild tangles of unhinged spidery melodies, almost leads, draped over the woozy warped lumbering chug and churn, the band do crank the temp here and there, but even then, the sound is SO blown out, and low fidelity and in the red, it turns everything into a glorious blackened noise drenched buzzy blur, and when they unfurl some wild psychedelic leads during the final track, it almost sounds like some sort of Tim Hecker / Merzbow mash up. So good. Total metal noise drone doom radness. For sure need to hear more from these guys. And hell, wouldn't hurt to finally get a non split Ghast full length too.
Totally recommended blast of twisted noise drenched extreme heaviness, two different, but equally twisted and genius takes on ultra slo-mo doom drone sludge...
There's been so much hype about this Swedish metal outfit, before we had ever heard a note, we had heard ABOUT them, seen amazing pictures of the band playing live, the vocalist with a face painted like a skull, dressed in robes like some demonic priest, the album cover, a creepy seventies oil painting of that same vocalist, hovering demon like over an old haunted looking church, their satanic lyrics, their epic heaviness, so we were prepared for something seriously demonic and devastating, black metal or at least black-ISH metal we were assuming, so when we finally heard it, we were lured in by the sound of a church organ, so far so good, haunting and mysterious, and then the first song kicks in, thick buzzing metallic bass, pounding drums, okay, so not black metal, but heavy, fuzzed out, a little psychedelic, and then the vocals, woah, sounding a lit like Voivod weirdly enough, soaring majestically over chugging churning, and them suddenly, so POPPY, the song shifting gears, slipping into something way more melodic, replete with oooh's and aaaah's and some strange liturgical sounding crooning, some cool seventies style organs too, so it may not be what we were expecting but we were loving it, so then the next song started, and wow, even less metal, more like classic rock, seventies psych, a surprise, but fuck it, still pretty damn killer, the guitars still plenty heavy, and then the chorus, holy shit, a dead ringer for Blue Oyster Cult, total hooky pop, and it was then that we realized we were totally hooked.
C'mon, chugging satanic metal meets dark psychedelic rock meets Blue Oyster Cult? How rad is that?! The Answer is VERY. The vocals occasionally sound a bit like King Diamond, the band slipping into some Mercyful Fate-isms here and there, but a way poppier, more psychedelic, less overtly metal version, the leads are awesome. And it's pretty cool to hear actual singing and real melodies and a sort of classic psych rock formula with these explicitly Satanic lyrics.
"Death Knell" gets a little doomy, and features the refrain "Six Six Six" amongst other evil ramblings, but the song is far from fierce and heavy, instead it's trippy and broody and mysterious and haunting, the vocals wreathed in reverb and draped over muted guitars, fuzzy organs, with some cool dynamic stop/starts, as well as some tolling bells and a few definite Sabbathisms. We were sort of hoping "Prime Mover" was a Zodiac Mindwarp cover, but instead it's a pretty stellar original, droned our layered high end guitars wrap around a chugging churning riff, the bassline buzzy and ominous, again, a super dynamic arrangement, maybe one of the heaviest jams on the record, a little mathy, the guitars thick and fierce, and then the vocals come in, and the sound shifts to something more melodic and moody, drifty and creepy and psychedelic.
So yeah, don't be misled by the hype, or the satanic imagery, this isn't black metal, or really strictly metal, but if the idea of some awesomely Satanic psychedelic seventies styled heaviness, a sort of more metallic and WAY more evil and over the top classic rock, sounds like your sort of thing (and why wouldn't it?), then you'll probably love this as much as we do.
Killer packaging too, the aforementioned cover art, a sweet slipcover, and of course lyrics, so you can sing along and perform your own little musical black masses at home.
It's no secret that we fell head over heels for Glasser's album Ring from last year, and it's left all of us with an impatient thirst to hear more. This new 12" remixed by Hans-Peter Lindstrom takes us to a space-side disco where Glasser melds moodiness and danciness with such great results. Lindstrom seems to key into the Laurie Anderson side of Glasser as the sounds sort of echo the awesome vibe of Big Science, but given a major modern update. Can't wait for a whole new set of songs from Glasser, but until then we'll be jamming this non-stop!
Killer 15th anniversary reissue of the debut full length from this legendary nineties French black metal horde. These days, we're all about the French black metal: Hell Militia, Deathspell Omega, Blut Aus Nord, Murmuure, Aurvandil, Otargos, The Arrival Of Satan, Merrimack, Peste Noire, Wolok, Glorior Belli, Diamatregon, S.V.E.S.T., we could go on, but needless to say, some of our favorite modern BM outfits hail from France. That said, we must plead a certain amount of ignorance to the bands that came before, the early days of French black metal. In fact, until this reissue, we had never even heard of Gorgon. But thanks to the fine folks at Todestrieb, we can now feast our ears on this epic slab of grim buzzing blackness.
Originally released in 1995, The Lady Rides A Black Horse sounds as good now as we imagine it did then. Sonically in keeping with the emerging black metal second wave, it's surprising that this record and this group weren't more well known. The production here is killer, the guitars super distorted, the howling vokills way up in the mix, the drums LOUD, there's also lots of bass, which as most folks know is usually woefully absent on most black metal recordings, but here it offers plenty of heft, not to mention a sort of gloomy gothic vibe. There are also soaring dramatic synths, and the band launch into blasts of classic sounding metal now and again, harmonized lead guitars, surprising hooks, all wound into the other wise grim buzz and black blast. The vibe is definitely a bit punky, the sound furious and frantic, epic and majestic, a sound that definitely foreshadows the French BM that would follow.
This reissue also tacks on a bunch of bonus tracks, two from right around the same time, that sound like more warped and weird versions of the record proper, the blastbeats way up in the mix, the vocals super intense and anguished, and the guitars even more buzzy and distorted, and the production strangely tweaked, as well as the group's 1993 debut 7", a much more lo-fi affair, murky and muddy, the production super raw, but it suits their raw feral sound, again, the bass sound is huge (especially by BM standards), a churning low end, that probably just makes the sound muddier, but the end result is some awesomely grim, lo-fi raw and primitive blackness, that should most definitely sate the true grim hordes...
Maybe our favorite record from this infamous black metal horde, reissued on vinyl!! Which was released in the early days of the aQ New Arrivals list, so sadly, it doesn't have the sprawling, ridiculously verbose and oozing with praise review it so richly deserves, just know that the metalheads around here consider this to be one of THEE essential black metal documents, and here's the brief, but pretty spot on review from when we listed the cd WAY back when:
Norwegian black metal of the most hateful, primitive, loud, noisy, evil variety. On this masterpiece of almost-avantgarde extremism, Gorgoroth evoke Burzum and Darkthrone. The Romanticism and Hammer Horror gothic cheese of "pop" black metal bands like Dimmu Borgir and Cradle of Filth are nowhere to be found here, this is so much more raw and hellish (tho some melody creeps in now and then)...
Rufus Harley will always be known as the man who brought bagpipes to jazz. Actually not many others followed his lead, but that's for the best as in any other hands that could have been a recipe for schlocky disaster. But Rufus Harley used the bagpipes to create such solid grooves and to enforce an immediacy that rang through in his playing. Bagpipe Blues was his first album, recorded in 1966, just a year after Harley bought his first set of bagpipes at a pawn shop in New York. Besides bagpipes, Harley also played flute and sax and was joined on this record by a solid group rounding out the sound on piano, bass & drums.
You can tell Harley was coming at jazz under the influence of greats like John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins. There is a strong sense of emotion and imagination in his playing. While he never got the huge break or widespread attention he so deserved, there have been folks smart enough to call on his talents, as Laurie Anderson did on her best record, Big Science, as well as The Roots on Do You Want More?!!?!
We're really happy his debut is finally reissued on vinyl!
Over the last decade, PJ Harvey has proven to be one of the most versatile, unpredictable and unique artists around. From polished and poppy (Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea), to lo-fi (Uh Huh Her), to raw, intimate and devastating (White Chalk), along with an amazing ongoing collaboration with John Parish. So we had no idea which side of PJ Harvey would emerge on this long awaited new full length, and that's actually now part of the fun when anticipating a new record from her. There is no question it will be great, it's just a matter of what shape of great it will be.
Let England Shake is a song cycle about England that takes its cues from battle hymns and as always Harvey's lyrics are both cryptic and complex, without being overbearing. Alongside her longtime collaborators Flood, Mick Harvey and again John Parish, this is a record that sounds like it was made by a proper band, unlike the ultra personal presentation of White Chalk. But just like everything PJ Harvey has released over the years, its an album that reveals its intimacy and emotion upon repeated listens, an album that is already getting under our skin in the best of ways.
Originally released on kvlt Northwestern black/metal/doom/drone label Woodsmoke as a super limited (100 copies) cassette, this is the first release from Hell, a one man black drone sludge outfit from Salem, Oregon, now remastered, and reissued as an ultra deluxe lp by Pesanta Urfolk, and (un)holy shit, is this a monster! Massive, crushing, crumbling heaviness, heaving low end miserablism, plodding death march pound that gives way to blown out in-the-red blackened guitardrone buzz, and thence to stonery sludge groove. Hell slips from doomic and lumbering, to super intense and mesmerizing, to groovy and rocking, all in the same song. Think Khanate, Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, Corrupted, Moss, Bunkur, but also Eyehategod, and the legion of EHG worshipping groovesludge merchants.
Just take album opener "Brutus", which begins as a hateful sonic trudge, the drums a caveman slo-mo pound, the vocals inhuman and alien, the guitars thick and tarpit black, the sound stumbling and hellish, only to have the vocals and drums drop out leaving a dense blast of buzzing, layered guitars, a weird black harmony of heaviness, droned out and mesmerizing, like a SUNNO))) record spinning at 78rpm, wreathed in siren like feedback, and all manner of echo, until the guitars coalese into a proper groove, Sabbathy almost, and then the song explodes into some serious stoner sludge crush, the main riff MASSIVE, with a cool ascending lick at the end that seems almost at odds with Hell's extreme grimnity, the vocals heavily effected and all twisted up, eventually slipping right back into the plod and lumber of the track's opener, until it grinds to a halt, in a weird cloud of ambient room noise, cartoon music, and glitched out channel surfing. Fucking bizarre and AWESOME.
"Infernus" is much more minimal, a barely propulsive beast, the guitars stretched out into thick streaks of black blur and keening high end skree, the vocals a distant anguished wail, the riffs gnarled and atonal, seeming to come apart before your ears, when the band to lock in, it's an impossibly slow sludge, the sound thick, the chugging weirdly percussive, as if the bass was tuned so low the strings were slapping loose against the bass. "Tyranno" is similarly sludgey, but way more noisy and murky, a blurred swirl of black filth, and spaced out glacial riffage, with some cool lurching stop start dynamics, and another near groove, that dissipates before it really gets rolling.
"Deflagatio" ups the tempo a bit, but just a bit, somewhere between abject crawl, and slo-mo groove, the guitars tuned so low, the vocals a demonic glass gargling shriek, but some surprising melody tucked amidst all the buzz and crumble. "Lethe" begins with a cloud of strangled guitar buzz, which gives way to a heaving bit of monstrous plod, the vocals way up in the mix and heavily echoed, giving them a weird dubbed out feel, the sound gradually shifting from lumber to lope to full on blown out drift, hovering in a field of black psych noise, before slipping right back into it, only to almost immediately be sucked into a cloud of swirling effects, while the guitars continue to buzz and drone.
Finally, the record finishes off with the 15+ minute "Maeror", a gorgeous mostly ambient sprawl, a symphony of whirling minor key shimmer, and strange clouds of tape hiss, the notes drawn way out, haunting and ominous, the speed warbling and constantly shifting, giving the whole thing a warped warbly vibe, breifly, some guitars explode from out of the murk, unleashing gouts of super distorted buzz, and shards of jagged feedback wreathed crunch, not to mention strange keening melancholy melodies, and some tripped out FX, before drifting off, and leaving a long warped expanse of minimal creeping haze to finally lay the record to rest. So killer, and obviously essential for fans of all things slow and low, black and buzzy, glacial and grim.
LIMITED TO 322 COPIES. Each one hand numbered. Pressed on nice thick black/blood red vinyl, and housed in heavy, super striking blood red/black woodcut sleeves, includes a massive poster (and we mean HUGE) of the woodcut cover art, and a printed cardstock insert. Also includes a download coupon.
Hard to know what to expect from a new batch of tapes from The Tapeworm, one of our favorite outsider/experimental/whatthefuck cassette labels, sometimes it's drone, sometimes some lost downtempo electronic record, or a mysterious unreleased jazz gem, the soundtrack to an avant garde art installation, or... some harmonica driven blues. Huh? Yeah, even for The Tapeworm, this one is a little out of left field. Or maybe in this case right field. Peter Hope-Evans was a member of seventies blues band Medicine Head, a favorite of John Peel, and here, offers up some skeletal home recorded stripped down blues, just guitar and harmonica, recorded on a boat, floating on a canal, sometime in 2010. The liner notes point to some relevant precursors / inspirations: The Coasters/Donovan/Sleepy John Estes/Blind Mamie Forehand/The Fugs/Skip James/Peggy Lee/Lotte Lenya/Sherrie Levine/Uncle Dave Macon/Moby Grape, and we definitely buy that, but this is essentially some acoustic blues, the guitars minimal, the harmonica soulful, the vocals sung/spoken, the vibe is super intimate, easy to imagine, windows open, the sounds seeping in from all around the canal, candles lit, much alcohol imbibed, and a long night of just jamming in the dark, simpler stripped down old school blues...
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!! Featuring original cover art by Savage Pencil.
With all the great music they've put out it's easy to forget that Hunx & His Punx had still not put out a proper full length until now. With Too Young To Be In Love, Hunx shows he's not just good only for singles but that he can keep the momentum up and fun flowing for a whole full length record. His love of girl groups shines so bright in these songs as you can hear how the sounds of The Crystals, The Shangri Las, and The Ronettes are given such respect as they are channeled through a gay punk's point of view. With great back-up vocals from some fine ladies including Shannon from Shannon & The Clams, this is a record that gives you all the hand claps, high energy, and tales of heartbreak that you want in a great pop record. "The Curse Of Being Young" might just be Hunx's finest song yet as it for sure will be a contender for favorite pop song of the year, and luckily everything else on the album stands near that level of pop excellence.
We're beginning to think that Debacle might just have to be our new favorite label. Certainly one of the coolest weirdest cd-r labels around. With a massive catalog we've only begun to work our way through, the spaced out krautdrone bliss of Expo 70, the hazy mantra like synth/vocal ritualism of the Slaves, and the tripped out synthscapery of Megabats, all killed, and now we have these, one of two releases on this week's list from Demian Johnston, who we knew nothing about, until we read that maybe he was in legendary technical metalcore outfit Kiss It Goodbye, which makes more sense here (than on the split tape with Mamiffer, reviewed elsewhere on this list), as this is some seriously corrosive, and caustic heaviness, not in the sense of metal, or rock, or even riffing, this is some dense, heaving, roiling blacknoise ambience that rivals Blue Sabbath Black Cheer for sheer power and intensity, but unlike the nearly impenetrable black hole sound of BSBC, the sounds here are infused with melody, and for every blast of brutality, there's a stretch of hushed shimmer, or creeping minimal drift.
Oh did we mention we have no idea who or what Mink Stole is either? The Debacle site offers no insights, a quick web search reveals that it's a guy called Chris Negrete, and that this whole record was born of a single guitar effects improv jam, recorded live, by Johnston, and then sent off to Negrete to fuck with, and fuck with he did, adding all manner of texture, extra noise, percussion, transforming a cloud of swirling guitar growl into a sprawling soundscape of black ambience, and foggy low end creep. The opening track is a harsh blast, but the follow up is a hazy, distorted slowcore free-drone drift, the record unwinds and unfurls gradually, slipping from sound to sound, hazy almost new agey krautdrone one minute, complete with haunting crooned vox, to deep minimal ambient thrum the next, an oozing black cloud of sound, laced with thick percussive low end flutters, and blasts of tweaked effects, otherworldly and a bit harrowing. Elsewhere thick swells of metallic buzz pulse over creaking, groaning industrial landscapes, SUNN-like sheets of blackdrone guitar buzz billow over buried barely there melodies, washed out shimmers float weightlessly alongside operatic vocals, in a gauzy expanse of warm layered warble and crystalline guitar shimmer, and roiling seas of whir and hiss churn over a submerged series of mechanical drones and machine like pulsations. Awesome, and dark. For fans of Kevin Drumm, Prurient, Wolf Eyes, and the grim bleak side of the black drone spectrum.
Got a super small handful of these ultra limited lps, commemorating a collaboration between Northwestern psych rockers Kinski, and British visual artist Jim Hobbs, whose most recent installation, featuring multiple 16mm projections, was scored live by Kinski, and the whole thing was captured on this here lp. Originally only available at the art show and via the band, each one of these, besides the record, comes with an original silkscreened print (hence the price). But we're a record store first and foremost, so let's talk about the music�
Three long tracks, all on the dreamy droney side, barring a few explosive psychedelic freakouts, the opener is a lush, minimal bit of slow building shimmer, hazy and dreamy, a little bit krautdrone new age-y, soft pulsations, swirling overtones, the sound getting more lush and thick as the track progresses, harmonious and lovely. The second track is more of the same, softly smoldering, muted metallic buzz, stretched out into softly undulating waves, hushed and meditative, at least for the first 7 or 8 minutes, that's when the guitar explodes, thick, and downtuned, a spidery buzz, wreathed in feedback, that quickly splinters into a full bore freakout, and is then woven into the hushed background drift, the squall dropping out briefly, only to return even more intense, the sound growling and buzzing, then the drums come in, spare at first, offering up flurries of tom fills, no rhythm, just another layer of psychedelic noise, eventually, the noisiness winds down, leaving a barely there bit of shimmer, which drifts dreamily into a haze of surf like static. The final track, a nearly 29 minute epic, is like an expanded version of the previous track, more super minimal drone leading into a wild tangle of feedback drenched frenzied psychedelia, the drums coming in almost right away, the opening and closing drones much more stretched out, the explosive psych breakdown significantly shorter, the last 10 minutes, a slow shifting, lush layered driftscape, a slow winding down to silence. Quite cool. Hard to imagine the visuals that would accompany these tracks, even harder to imagine the response of a museum crowd to those blasts of incendiary psych noise. Great stuff.
LIMITED T0 389 COPIES. Each one hand numbered. Housed in super swank, thick full color gatefold jacket, and each record includes a silkscreen print by Jim Hobbs. Includes a download coupon.
Wow. We can't get over this incredibly cosmic, tripped-out debut cassette from KWJAZ. SF mastermind Peter Berends decides that space is the place and sets his sights for uncharted musical territory. Falling somewhere between outsider instrumental pop and dubbed-out psychedelic ethno-jazz, Berends leads a colorful excursion into the astral unknown. The two, side-long tracks unfold like some otherworldly mix-tape, deep basslines giving way to sizzling warbling drones, cut-up bits of rhythmic clatter ooze and materialize into slow grooving monuments to the stars. Chopped up samples and distorted swells melt into a lo-fi woozy web. Hazy, primitive beats (picture a slowed down Ethiopiques loop) rock and sway as horns, electric piano and weirdo samples add to the celestial crunk. And keep in mind, though KWJAZ is weird, far-out and strange, this humble cassette is overflowing with musicianship and close attention to layering and detail.
What makes all the tripped-out, genre defying weirdness so satisfying is Berends's ability to form these diverse elements into a propulsive, evocative musical journey through time and genre. Moments of cool jazz tranquility unexpectedly morph into trip-hop fantasy ballads, long-tone new age bliss suddenly shifts into West African romps, and somehow all these tangents seem impossibly and seamlessly linked. We can't recommend this one enough!
Limited to an edition of 121, fans of Hype Williams, Rangers or Ducktails will not want to miss out on this lysergic masterpiece!
It's strange watching videos of Lifelover performing live. With the sound turned down, you would probably think you were watching the sickest, noisiest, grimmest band ever, the frontman in a white shirt, seemingly in some sort of trance at the front of the stage, cutting himself up until he's a sopping bloody mess, covered in scars, his mouth wide open, seemingly howling demonically, but as most of you already know, the sound of Lifelover is far removed from grim black buzz, or dirgey blackened sludge, instead, they traffic is a sort of doom pop, surprisingly melodic, still metallic, but often with piano, and synths, juxtaposing wild hysterical vox, with music that is frankly not that far removed from the mainstream. But that's the magic of Lifelover, they are a seriously twisted entity, sonic and otherwise, their records sprawling confusional free for all's that shift tone and timbre constantly, brooding and dark one minute, wild and heavy the next, the vocals over the top and super dramatic. A sound that's dark and depressive, but totally melodic and catchy. We've loved pretty much every record so far, and their records get played all the time in the shop, even by the non metalheads, especially by the non metalheads. That's not to say this is not metal, it most definitely is, just its own unique strain.
On first listen, we were tempted to proclaim Sjukdom the heaviest Lifelover yet, and while repeated listens do reveal the record's hidden melodic secrets, we definitely think the ratio of distorted heaviness to plaintive melancholy doom pop is definitely above average here.
The opener sets the tone, with some seriously chuggy metallic riffage, but laced over some mournful minor key piano, the vocals slipping from anguished shriek to more guttural howl, the song surprisingly catchy, the drums weirdly processed so they almost sound programmed, the track slipping into an almost punk rock blast before slipping right back into the more metallic midtempo crunch.
It's definitely the best sounding Lifelover yet, in terms of production, the guitars are massive, thick, super distorted, the vocals manage to be audible, bizarre, but not overbearing, the drums might be the only weak spot, triggered sounding, but as the record grows on you, the drums start to sound, right, somehow. And the songs, super catchy, melding the sort of Katatonia style depressive metallic melancholia, with depressive black metal ambience, the piano, which sort of defines their sound, as much as the guitars certainly, and the vocals, which are so emotional, expressive, tortured, bizarre, grunting to shrieking, to whispering to mewling.
And beyond the Lifelover 'sound', these guys do whip up some fantastic audio weirdness, peppering the record with strange samples, swirling snippets of other songs, haunting interludes, mysterious stretches of ambience, even whole songs that totally stand out, like "Bitterljuv Kakofoni", with its hushed backwards guitars, tortured growled vox, all over a weird super minimal, ultra distorted rhythm, laced with minimal piano, and haunting guitar twang, creepy and beautiful. There's also the strummy blissy "Utdrag", that sounds like Lifelover's take on jangle pop, sounding a bit like the singer's other outfit Hypothermia, minus the piano.
If you liked the other Lifelovers, you're gonna dig this one too, not their weirdest, but definitely their catchiest, and best produced, and it's a total grower. At first we were convinced it could never live up to Erotik or Pulver, but now we find ourselves listening to it like crazy, and digging it as much as those other ones if not more.
Yet another chunk of awesome audio weirdness from UK cassette label The Tapeworm (along with three other releases reviewed elsewhere on this week's list). They had us with the title, Concert For 300 Magnetic Tapes. We were maybe envisioning something more like Reynols' Blank Tapes, a composition of the hiss and noise from playing back unrecorded audio tapes, this is Francisco Lopez after all, whose compositions offer border on the absolutely inaudible. But instead, Lopez and Zan Hoffmann solicited tapes from various musicians and artists in the international home recording 4 track cassette tape underground, and embarked on a tour, during which the two would add some of their own sounds, to a glorious cacophonous collage of the various contributions. In this wall of taped sound, impossible to tell what is pre-recorded, or what is being performed live (this recording was culled from various performances in 1994), but a hazy, washed out, softly noisy swirl of voices, and sonic snippets, truncated melodies, lots of grinding and buzzing and hissing, everything layered and tangles, often a confusional mess, but just as often coalescing into something strangely composed sounding, tinkling melodies over a heaving wall of crumbling distortion, or some distant lilting dreaminess, underpinned by jagged shards of chaotic crunch, fuzzy radio broadcast like voices swathed in gritty swirls of static, bits of guitar twang surface occasionally, before slipping back into the grey wash of constantly shifting sound. Really cool. And maybe one of the coolest compositions/performances we've heard from Lopez!
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!
As if these guys weren't busy enough with their 'day jobs',�Stephen O'Malley (Khanate, SUNNO))), Burning Witch, KTL, Thorr's Hammer),�James Plotkin (Atomsmasher, Phantomsmasher, Khanate, OLD, Flux, Romance) and�Aaron Turner (Isis, Old Man Gloom, House of Low Culture) still somehow managed to find time to get together and do something a little less... heavy, or sludgy, or crushing, or even drone-y for that matter.�
Wurmwulv is the latest chunk of ambient drift, minimal clatter, and abstract soundscaping from the trio known as Lotus Eaters. Three looooong songs, 50 minutes of strange drifting sound.�
The opening track is a slowed down pipe fight. A warped wander through a sea of chimes and bells, of resonant metal and shimmering metallic drones. Avarus, Anaksimandros, have got nothing on these guys. Ominous and dark, but strangely melodic. From delicate tinkling to dense metal on metal pound, single notes fluttering in space, to flurries of clang and clatter, all the while, way in the background, a deep swirling tidal low end shifts and shimmers.�
The second track is brief, 5 minutes of high end drift, strange electronic interference, gristly rumbles and hissy whirs, while beneath it all, machines creak and groan, mysterious objects scrape and rattle until near the end, the track is suddenly overtaken by a lush wall of warm guitar whorl.
The final track, another lengthy exploration, is an effects laden trawl through a world of constantly shifting low end. Nearly static, layers of rumble and whir, gently and almost imperceptibly shuffling, while over the top, drift tiny alien sonic events and muted squiggles of FX, helicopter like whup-whup-whup's, and faux animal calls, clicks and thumps, all manner of mysterious sound. Eventually, a flurry of high end streaks takes the form of some sort of effervescent symphony, glistening in their own all high end universe, before the low end returns, bringing with it a muted folky drift, a lazy sun dappled slow burning outro...
Gorgeously�packaged in an oversized 6 panel A5 sized digibook, with paintings by Stephen Kasner, layout and design by Aaron Turner. So nice.
No idea who Demian Johnston is, whether he's a person or they're a band (although weirdly enough, we think he was a member of post hardcore heavies Kiss It Goodbye!), but got two new releases from him/them on this week's list. Both collaborations. The other, a cd-r with the equally unknown to us Mink Stole (on Debacle, the same label that brought us the Slaves, Expo 70 and Megabats), and this, an elaborately packaged cassette boxset collab with aQ faves Mamiffer. Hard to tell actually, all the text is in Russian, there's a set of gorgeously printed artcards inside held together with gold string, each box is numbered with big stamped numbers on the back of the box, inside, these two outfits conjure up some seriously fantastic sounds, well worthy of the elaborate packaging.
Mamiffer, a trio this time around, Aaron Turner, Faith Coloccia and Alex Barnett of Oakeater, offer up a brand new track, post the recent full length, a sprawling doomdronescape of crumbling distorted organs and guitars, laced with voices and field recordings, a bit like SUNNO))) via William Basinski, the sounds starting out intense and heavy, but quickly becoming something much more drowsy and dramatic, a sort of hazy slowcore, underpinned by some distant decaying guitar buzz, soft and swirly, slightly ominous, but quite dreamy actually, the sound shifting continually from hushed and minimal to gauzy and dream poppy, to creepy and haunting, to layered and lush.
The Demian Johnston tracks are a bit more sinister, brooding and malevolent, still sort of ambient, but the sounds rumble and whir, grinding beneath the surface, a sort of blackened drift, soundtracky, mysterious, laced with al sorts of field recording like sounds, giving the tracks a vibe like walking through some dark decimated landscape, some crumbling post apocalyptic city, not to say it's not still lovely, it most definitely is, that loveliness is just infused with a sort of grim tension, and in fact the more we listen, the more it reminds us of a way more dismal and dark Tim Hecker, the same sort of gauzy ambience and buried melody, a sort of creepy cinematic ambience, especially on the second DJ track, where the drift of the opening track is wedded to some seriously distorted muted crunch, and lots of space, a fantastically haunted sounding sprawl of tense ambience, and harrowing droned out drift.
LIMITED TO 110 COPIES!! As mentioned above, housed in a super swank box, with printed artcards, hand numbered, we have a little handful of these, and pretty sure once they are gone we will NOT be able to get more.
Freshly back from Europe, these SF locals offer up another couple short sharp blasts of their jangly dreamy retro pop, the first release on French label SDZ. The A side is a woozy, washed out, laid back bit of hazy sixties style murk pop, woozy organ laid over crunchy guitars, shuffling rhythms, the vocals dreamy and way down in the mix, a Velvetsy bit of druggy jangle and crunch, the sort of song you'll find yourself playing over and over and over.
The B side, while still sunshiney and jangly, is a bit darker, the guitars are a bit more buzzy, the vibe a bit broodier, sounds like the Wipers, or maybe some lost Flying Nun NZ pop band, all angular crunch, sung/spoken vox, low slung, everything blurred and buzzy, the whole sound lo-fi and fantastically muddy and murky, with an awesome, mid-song, psychedelic guitar squall, that returns at the end for a final blow out, the sort of inspired freakout that should have gone on for another 10 minutes (maybe live they stretch it way out).
Regardless, two great new jams from one of our favorite local pop combos, which should tide you over until their upcoming Slumberland full length.
One of four new tapes on the Tapeworm label, a UK cassette only label that traffics in modern minimalism and all manner of outsider musical ephemera, shrouding many of their releases in mystery, leaving it up to the listener to divine the providence of these strange and wonderful releases. Not entirely sure who Philip Marshall is, although from the credits we're going to assume it's actually not a person, and instead the name of a group, made up of various composers, musicians and field recordists. Composed and performed by English pianist / composer Andrew Poppy, Casse-tete is a gorgeous elegiac bit of solo piano, brooding, and haunting, lush and melodious, but the main piano part is surrounded by various bits of audio detritus and random field recordings, from static and crunch, hiss and clatter, to snippets of conversation, the grinding metal on metal of what sounds like a commuter train, the background sounds occasionally overtaking the piano sounds themselves, a few minutes in, after what sounds like someone removing a tape from a player, we're treated to accordion and crowd sounds and what could be a buys street in Italy, the sounds getting ever more chaotic and noisy, reverbed and echo drenched, finally super distorted in a final squall of Merzbowian crunch, slipping into a strange bout of pulsating organs sliced and diced and all tangled up with more strange sonic snippets and fragments of what sounds like liturgical chorales.
The B side seems to be an extrapolation of that twisted collaged Italian street field recording, thick billows of accordion buzz, the rhythmic crunch of foot steps, church organs, lots of hiss and crunch and buzz, drone and dark, fragmented and fractured, a swirling, whirling droned out soft noise field recording flecked dronescape. Cool.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES.
It's easy to imagine Mountain Goats mainman (and in the beginning, ONLY man), John Darnielle, reaching a sort of crossroads in life. Having to decide between two callings, music, or writing. One likes to think that had Darnielle chosen writing, he would have taken his knack for hooks and melody, as well as his nerd worthy obsession with bands and records (death metal in particular) along with him, but lucky for the legions of MG fans, he instead chose music, but seemingly could never really make peace with that decision, which ended up being fine, as Darnielle is an unparalleled rock lyricist, pithy, clever, funny, heartfelt, approaching songs like novellas, each track elaborate in its story, whether ultra personal and intimate, or emblematic and rabble rousing. Folks like the Decemberists' Colin Meloy get lots of critical acclaim for they wordy, lit heavy lyrics, but few can hold a candle to Darnielle, besides like the best lyricists he's not just an intellectual, he's as deft as getting a laugh as he is at getting the listener to choke up.
Much gets written about Darnielle's lyrics, but none of that would mean shit if he didn't have the music to back it up, and in the early days, that music consisted of nothing but a beat up old acoustic guitar, strummed wildly while Darnielle belted out those lyrics in a super distinctive nasal yelp, all captured on a creepy old boom box. He helped define the whole Inland Empire / Shrimper sound of the nineties. And demonstrated even back then his knack for popsmithery.
And back then, as much as we loved the MG's, we could hardly predict the sort of trajectory Darnielle's career would take, ditching the acoustic guitar and boombox for a full band and a real studio, signing to 4AD, then Merge, performing on Letterman and Colbert, and essentially, becoming a real band, and a real popular one at that.
All Eternals Deck is the Mountain Goats' latest, and while Darnielle's vocals have definitely gotten more controlled over the years, it's still that same distinctive voice, and those incredible lyrics, and the music, well, anyone who has been listening these last few years, the music is a whole new ballgame, about as far from lo-fi as you can get, fantastic, BIG production, layered guitars, piano, great drumming (courtesy of Jon from Superchunk), all woven into epic strummy folky indie pop, a sound that's definitely on the commercial side, but then it's a logical progression for sure, and while some folks will continue to lament the loss of those super raw early MG recordings, it's been long enough that maybe it's best to consider that a whole other thing, MG mach I, meanwhile everyone else can dig into All Eternals Deck, yet another batch of killer Mountain Goats jams.
Also, we were lucky enough to get a small handful of the VERY limited, originally mailorder only, demo cassette, All Survivors Pack, featuring demo versions of songs from the album, as well as a handful of unreleased track! Plus each tape was hand colored by Mr. Darnielle himself. We got so few though, we're having a raffle, which you will be automatically entered in, by purchasing this, the new record, on either lp or cd. We'll pick the winners next week. Good luck!
Latest from these Aussie gloom rockers, and another killer collection of dark grimy noise pop gems. This ep is a soundtrack of sorts to a forthcoming film called Twelve Dark Noons, set in the Australian outback, purportedly a somewhat psychedelic tale chronicling a loss of sanity. The NOTV jams, though, continue on sonically from where their Heaps Of Nothing record on Siltbreeze left off, thick sinewy Joy Division basslines under clanging chiming guitars, deep bellowed monotone vox, cool angular melodies, heavy, intricate drumming, swirling synths... as we've mentioned before, definitely covering similar territory as Blank Dogs and Times New Viking, but some older comparisons seem more apt, Wipers, Scientists, Gun Club, Celibate Rifles, the Abecedarians, The Gordons, the Terminals, not to mention Bauhaus.
The songs brood and smolder, a little bit droney, mesmerizing and hypnotic, the first five jams are hooky catchy pop swaddled in buzz and fuzz and a dour washed out haze, but it's the final track that has us a bit obsessed, the only track that sounds remotely 'soundtracky', a sprawling slow motion dronescape, lazily unfurling guitars, layered low end, all slithery and shimmer, over which softly undulating sheets of high end drift and hover, gauzy feebacky swells, glacial riffage, wreathed in a smattering of effects, the whole thing darkly meditative, softly noise, and totally mesmerizing.
Another labor of proto-metal love reissue here from the folks at Rise Above, who brought us the Steel Mill listed last list, and the Bang box before that. If you liked Steel Mill in particular, Necromandus is worth checking out too. Like Steel Mill, it's got a bit of left-field progginess mixed in with its proto-metal heaviness... or maybe the other way around. Really, on paper, you'd think this would be super heavy. First off, the name Necromandus sounds rather metal and evil doesn't it? As does the album title, and songs with names like "Homicidal Psychopath" and "A Black Solitude". And, this album, recorded in 1973 and intended for release on Vertigo (which ultimately didn't happen), was in fact produced by none other than Black Sabbath's Tony Iommi! He even contributes a guitar solo on the title track.
The album starts off with the striking of a gong, followed by a brief atmospheric instrumental intro, then, wham, does indeed get pretty darn Sabbathy with the galloping "Night Jar", a definite proto-metal classic as good ('n heavy) as anything by Jerusalem, Bang, Dust, Lucifer's Friend, Night Sun, May Blitz, Leaf Hound, etc. But after that, Necromandus suddenly take a turn and get all jazzy/proggy on us for the rest of the record, sounding more like Yes than Sabbath, really, which is ok by us as well. Good stuff, and definitely not altogether mellow! In fact, a lot of it is rather ripping. You'll still hear echoes of Sabbath, who had their proggy side too, after all. But folks looking for pure proto-metal / doom might be confused. Although we'd say "Night Jar" alone is worth the price of admission for them, anyway!
Plus, for this deluxe reissue (which comes in a slipcase, with lavish booklet, like the Steel Mill), Rise Above have added 9 bonus tracks, a good, raw recording of the band kicking ass at a live show from '73, featuring a bunch of the album tracks and more.
Too band Necromandus didn't "make it", hard to understand why not, they were definitely a talented group and you'd think their connection with Sabbath would have helped (they even momentarily formed Ozzy Osbourne's original solo band when he first left Sabbath in '77, before returning to do Never Say Die). Probably had they actually been more metal... but we like what they got up to here, regardless.
This one shouldn't need to much of a description, these have been flying off the shelves since we first got them in. Originally intended to be a Record Store Day release, this double lp collects essentially ALL of the Oh Sees singles: The Carol Anne 7", Peanut Butter Oven 12", the split 7" with Paul Cary, the split 7" with The Intelligence, the Grave Blockers ep, the Tidal Wave single, the Blood In Your Ear single, the Sub Pop single, the tour split 7" with Jay Reatard, as well as a few previously unreleased surprises. The first lp is actually the same stuff that was on the bonus cd that came with the Zork's Tape Bruise lp released on Kill Shamen, while the second lp is newly compiled. It's a pretty bad ass collection, Thee Oh Sees were and are definitely one of those bands who seem to do their best rocking in the short format, and these are definitely some of our favorite Oh Sees jams. Absolutely essential for fans of course, and newbies, well, we can't really think of a better place to start.
Need more? Here are several excerpts from reviews of a few of the singles included in this collection:
Blood In Your Ear: Some fuzzy, distorted lo-fi sixties pop infused garage rock that totally rocks. Crunchy, distorted, fuzzy, groovy, doused in reverb and delay, the vocals a distorted yelp, the guitars all jangly, this time around there's even some harmonica, stomping and hooky and kick ass. That's just the A side. The flipside just might be one of our favorite Oh Sees jams yet, all brooding and power poppy, reminding us of the Wipers, but with strange bloopy keyboards, and a weary washed out minor key vibe, so super catchy, we find ourselves humming it through the days, and running to the front of the store when it gets played. Awesome.
Peanut Butter Oven: Full of that sixties big beat cavernous murky wall of feedback pop that we love. "Kingsmeat" is all melancholy Farfisa over upbeat rhythms and ringing feedback tones before turning up the Bo Diddley pace for "The Freak Was Clean", before the almost shoe-gazy "Kids In Cars" winds us down quite nicely.
Tidal Wave: Totally perfect, ultra catchy blasts of pure garage pop genius!
Split with The Intelligence: The two Ohsees songs end before you know it but they're so good and infectious that we've just been playing them over and over and over.
You get the picture. Super limited too, of course. Pressed on red and green vinyl, and housed in a topless magic marker fake tattoo Oh Sees fan boy sleeve. Nice! We have a bunch, but it's sold out, and the label is in the process of making more, so if you order one, and we've already run out, might take a week or two to get them back in.
