Any indie rocker worth their salt already knows, and most likely loves, noisy NZ jangle poppers the 3Ds, their sound unknowingly a template for much of what was to follow in their wake. This collection was compiled by the Dead C's Bruce Russell, whose first label Xpressway was briefly home to the 3Ds, and while for most folks the 3Ds were always considered a Flying Nun band, many of the tracks here were recorded for Xpressway. Included are remastered versions of the band's first two eps (Fish Tails and Swarthy Songs For Swabs) as well as a whole mess of unreleased demo and comp tracks.
For those who've never heard the 3Ds, you might be shocked by their sound, considering how many bands we know and love seem to have borrowed quite a bit from them, Pavement to Superchunk, indie rock as we know it definitely owes a huge debt, plus the usual croon and jangle is augmented by distinctly dour Wipers-ish miserablism not to mention some swaths of good old NZ noise. Have a listen to the first few tracks and odds are you'll be smitten, or if you're already a fan, it'll remind you just why you (and we) loved these guys so much in the first place.
"Meluzina Man", the version from the Xpressway Pile Up compilation, is as close to perfect as this stuff gets, hushed and dreamily jangly, with sweet boy/girl harmonies, slithery Joy Division basslines, thick buzzy guitars, a hushed haunting first half gives way to an explosive second half, noisy and distorted, wildly psychedelic, dark and droney, the crooned vocals transformed into a passionate howl. The perfect mix of jangle and buzz, of brooding darkness and sweet melodicism. Up next is "First Church", from the first ep, and finds the band fierce and rocking, the guitar super fuzzy and distorted, the drums pounding, all over a roiling backdrop of swirling sounds and mysterious voices, the vibe snarly and swaggery, a little bit sludgey and dirgey, and those vocals, a little reminiscent of Gordon Gano from Violent Femmes, the perfect balance to the churning low slung buzz, propulsive and hypnotic, almost like some indie rock band channeling Hawkwind. And then there's the equally awesome "Evocation Of W.C. Fields", the demo version a super lo-fi version of what is essentially some perfect NZ pop, quirky, a little bit new wavey, with driving basslines and killer fuzzjangle guitar. Later on there's a proper studio version, which is different, more lush and heavy and a little bit shoegazey, but that demo version, there's something special about it. Hell there's something special about all these tracks. We've been playing this like crazy, and going through a little bit of a 3Ds revival. So great!
Includes a massive booklet with extensive liner notes by Brice Russell, all about the early years of the band!
The Inside Room is the debut from highly touted UK melodic doom outfit 40 Watt Sun, a group born from the dissolution of the late great Warning, both bands fronted by vocalist Patrick Walker, whose unique and passionate singing style pretty much defined Warning and continues to define his new band. Unlike most doom bands, who employ either an over the top near operatic wail, or conversely, some sort of demonic guttural gurgle, Walker actually sings, his voice emotional, but not ridiculously dramatic, he definitely sounds like a proper pop singer, who just so happened to start a doom band. Which will no doubt rub some troo doomlords the wrong way, but for the rest of us, it's pretty awesome. Definitely reminding us of Katatonia, the same sort of sweeping bombast, a similarly mournful melancholia, but that voice, it's really all about the voice, driving the songs, defining them, passionate and emotive, it helps that those vocals are supported by big booming drums, guitars so thick, and so distorted, the chords seem to crumble, occasionally wreathed in a sitar-like buzz. It's actually a little difficult to keep from imagining these songs sans distortion and drums, just say an acoustic guitar and vocals, these would be instantly transformed into some sort of heart rending ballads, but when coupled to some churning downtuned heaviness, the sound becomes a sort of glorious, emotional doom pop, or gloom pop, the pop element is definitely everywhere, and while the sound is definitely not that far removed from the sound of Warning, it is most definitely poppier, and Walker's vocals much improved, his delivery so heartfelt, like a soul laid bare, definitely transforms this from run of the mill doom, to something special. If there was ever an actual doom band that had the potential for some sort of crossover appeal, it would be these guys (there's a sort of Alice In Chains gone doom vibe going on that's actually pretty pleasing), with their keen melodic sense, and that voice. And while the track do occasionally get dynamic, with some cool stop/start arrangements, for the most part the music is languid and flows darkly, thick layered chords, a lush doomscape that perfectly meshes with Walker's gorgeous vox.
This is definitely WAY too melodic for the most extreme of ultradoomlords out there, but for anyone after some darkly melodic heaviness, this might just hit the spot! Domestic cd release and import vinyl available.
A few lists back, when we reviewed the (now already out of print!) 1996-1998 demos collection by this Pacific Northwest based cult, we mentioned we now realize we were quite foolish in not having paid sufficient attention to their career. Considering how much we ended up liking those early demos, seriously delving into the subsequent bulk of their discography seemed to be in order, though potentially a daunting task. Making things easier though, they've just come out with a new album, so let's focus on that. This latest from these difficult to describe grim blackened metal artists is via the Profound Lore label, who have established an admirable and eclectic track record lately of signing the best in the underground - their two other most recent releases were by extreme doomsters Salome and epic true metal rockers Slough Feg! Agalloch fit right in, in the sense of not fitting in, as they, like those bands, are nothing if not unique. Well, ok, Agalloch are nominally black metal, and "arty", and thus always draw Opeth comparisons, but that's just 'cause it's tough come up with something -really- accurate in that dep't. Another would be Wolves In The Throne Room. Or Ludicra, though they're supposedly so citified, and Agalloch are definitely of the forest.
Fans will know that Agalloch recently enlisted our pal Aesop from Ludicra on drums. One of Aesop's bandmates from that outfit told us that Agalloch sounds like Weezer doing black metal. Maybe that was meant as a criticism (of Agalloch, Weezer, and/or black metal) but for some of us it sounds like a recommendation!! And while we're not sure we really hear that anyway, we guess there is a "pop" side to Agalloch, at least, some occasional clean vocals crop up alongside the usual raspy style ones, and certainly plenty of melancholic melody factors into their exquisitely crafted, carefully orchestrated black metal onslaught, a warm and -gentle- onslaught some of the time we must say, one that even veers into post rock territory a bit, a la Explosions In The Sky or Godspeed or something like that gone black metal, maybe. And the whispery "To Drown" hints at Current 93, tremulous and atmospherically epic. So chamber rock, art rock, post rock, folk rock... Agalloch are perhaps all these things and sundry, in some small measure. But definitely black metal is the crux of this, with those vokills, and blasting beats, and the crunch and whine of the guitars much of the time... whilst Moog and piano, cello and glockenspiel, field recordings and vibraphone, even "petrified bone, glass & metal sheet percussion", all are also woven into the compositions here, making for a lulling sound easily associated with woods, smoke, antlers, mists - even without support from the artwork that suggests such things. Speaking of which, the tri-fold digipack this comes in is handsomely designed, with the band's logo subtly done in raised clear spot varnish on the front cover, likewise with the track listing on the back. Nice!
NB. for those into "six degrees of separation" games, a glance at the credits here will allow you connect Agalloch to krautrockers Faust in approximately one move! Amber Asylum also.
On sale, $2 off regular price (normally $13.98) for the next two weeks, through December 3rd!
What is it with bands not naming records? We're all for the 'self titled' record, but when they're ALL self titled, it gets a little confusing. By record number two or three at least start numbering 'em, fer chrissakes. Anyway, another rad reissue of a tape from this West Coast avant black metal horde, that was so limited on its initial release, we never managed to even see a single copy. Originally put out in a run of 150 copies on Psychic Violence, this is our, and quite possibly your, first exposure to this monumental chunk of progressive blackness, opening with a lumbery dirgey doom, that pounds and creeps, beneath anguished wails, before exploding into some of the most intense and emotional black metal we've heard, due in some part we would imagine to the structure and the melody, unlikely for most black metal, in fact, it almost sounds like post rock sped way up and blackened, soaring and hauntingly melodic, majestic and moody, these blasts are separated by still more emotional sonic stretches, midtempo sprawls of soaring guitar trills, and angular math rock riffs, all wreathed in black beneath grim howled vokills, before closing with a blast of frenzied riffage and a final movement of dirgey weirdly melodic doomic plod.
The B side starts off all shimmery synths and smoldering angular guitar melodies, before launching into another stretch of frantic blasting buzz, here alternating between furious blackness, blissed out reverbed psychedelia and churning mathy doom, the record epic and constantly shifting, but woven together into a single epic movement, the final part of which might be the best bit on the record, a slow build blackened post rock, that eventually explodes into a totally epic blowout of blackened Godspeed-style majesty.
LIMITED TO 777 COPIES, pressed on 160 gram red vinyl, housed in super swank matte black gatefold sleeves, printed on the front and back in red metallic foil.
We have a trifecta of free jazz "twofers" this week from way deep down in the Impulse catalog. Check out the reviews elsewhere on the list for Alice Coltrane and Pharoah Sanders. While the Coltrane features two of our favorite titles from her, the Ayler and Sanders releases are from albums we're less familiar with, or at least hadn't reviewed before, but have been psyched to (re-)discover. While perhaps not the best place to be introduced to these artists, these records reward those seekers of the overlooked deep cuts without the hefty collector/import price!
Love Cry from 1967 was Ayler's first release on Impulse. Like the Impulse recordings of John Coltrane, Ayler's signing to the label did not mean a shift towards commercialization, though the music is perhaps more accessible than his ESP recordings. Yet Love Cry is still a weird record. It was the last recording he made with his younger brother Donald on trumpet, before Donald was fired from the band and committed for a short time to a mental institution. So their horn interplay has a tempestuous yet strangely sullen vibe given the fact that most of the music stems from militaristic bugle calls and marches and nursery rhyme fugues. The baroque dirge quality is emphasized further with the odd inclusion of harpsichord in sometimes sallow expositions of New Orleans funeral music. Yet despite all of the chaotic atmosphere, there is a tight focus and flow.
Not sure that can be said for the other record, The Last Album from 1969. Though it wasn't technically Ayler's last ever album, it came out of the same sessions as Music Is The Healing Force, though that album was released first, plus if you really want to get technical, there were two other records released from a live concert performed a year later... Yet The Last album has the feeling of something ending, as it contains a lot of experimentation that didn't venture as far out as a lot of his other recordings. Yet the odd musical pairings continue with opener, "Untitled Duet" featuring Ayler on bagpipes cutting angular phrasing with Canned Heat guitarist, Henry Vestine. Sun Ra-like cosmic vocal excursions mark the poetic "Again Comes The Rising of The Sun" and the strange "Desert Blood", a heady dirge featuring plodding piano cascades and scattershot rhythms. Though perhaps not regarded as his best outing, paired together with Love Cry, both albums provide a shored up visionary quality of range and mystique than they would yield as single releases.
The first installment in a new series on Beta-Lactam Ring called the Drone Compendium series, curated by none other than Mr. Aidan Baker, he of mighty dronedoomdirge duo Nadja, and as is befitting his status as curator, the first installment is in fact a Baker record, entitled Pure Drone, and the record delivers precisely what the title promises. Recorded live in 2010, the A side, while pure drone, is definitely more than a single tone, or a simple bit of minimal hum. Instead, the sound is lush and layered, a sprawling, smoldering expanse of dreamlike drift, a soft focus slow build, rife with subtle melodies that gradually reveal themselves, beneath subtly shifting textures, laced with streaks of high end and pulsing almost-rhythms and shimmering overtones. The B side is a bit more subdued, a little more minimal, but still lush and lovely, the tonal colorations surfacing in the second half, after a long dark droney bit of hypnotic thrum, the sounds seeming to blossom, the light up, it sounds like watching a star appear from behind a planet as the orbits shift, that sort of fundamental, monumental sonic power, the melodies glimmering and glittering in the alien starlight, so gorgeous.
LIMITED TO 400 COPIES, packaged in super swank heavy jackets!
Here stands the monumental anthology, culled from the numerous cassettes and cd-rs that Chris Madak has released over the past decade or so, under the moniker Bee Mask. Like Emeralds and Oneohtrix Point Never, Madak is single-minded in his retrogarde aesthetic for synthesized compositions based on a vintage 1970s' cosmology. But where many of the '70s synth revivalists have coyingly adopted a full-fledged new age aesthetic through effervescent prettiness and soft-focus ambient swirl, Bee Mask offers up his own dysptopic take on psychedelic electronics through a crucible of cracked circuits, tape splutter, infernal field recordings, and a hell of a lot of sustained synth drones oscillating into crescendos of dissonant thumming. The zoner tracks on Elegy For Beach Friday (and there are a number of them) never sit in the background seeking a sublimated hypnosis, rather Madak zooms in on the placid pools of sound to unveil intense percolations and swarming vibrations. There's a scientific rigor to his pieces that finds Bee Mask orbiting around the dense, alienating electronics from Matt Shoemaker, Rick Reed, and Bernard Parmigiani. But, Madak is also one to tease with the subtle swelling melodies that harken to the more emotive works from Omit and Emeralds. If his work shares anything with the retro electronic tapestries that are the forgotten soundtracks for a summer sunset, Madak would rather blind the audience with the intensity of the sun, complete with blisters on the skin and technological mishaps from sunspots. Brilliant!
Belle & Sebastian remixed??!! On paper that sounds like a potential recipe for disaster. And we have to be honest, when we first saw this 12" we were kind of hesitant to listen to it at all, but after really digging the Interpol remix 12" we decided to give it a spin. We're glad we did cause the Cold Cave remix of "I Didn't See It Coming" from the last Belle & Sebastian album, Write About Love, is one of the best remixes of the year. Cold Cave turns the twee indie pop song into a soft synth stunner. They don't try to make Belle & Sebastian all techno and dark (which we had feared) but instead give it a slight dancefloor push, reminding us a lot of the sound of Stephen Merrit's electro-pop project Future Bible Heroes. The other two remixes come from Richard X, and Tony Doogan, and there's also a brand new song called "Blue Eyes Of A Millionaire."
Hot shit musique concrete found here! There are so many stuffy compositions and constructions that look back to the salad days of tape experimentation in the '50s and '60s. Works can get so conceptual with each sound being meant to allude to some particular phrases of Beckett or recapitulate the Merz of Schwitters that the interplay between this found sound and that electronic blorp is totally lost amidst a dull and boring concoction that serves little more than an execution of a grant application. This is certainly not the case for Canadian composer Nicolas Bernier, whose dexterous yet ominous concrete album has landed in the good hands of Hronir, a label which has a small catalogue of brutal collage artists (e.g. Sudden Infant, Raionbashi, GX-Jupitter Larssen) to accompany more oblique voices from the academic world. While Bernier's work isn't nearly as toxic as those jackbooted noiseniks, his compositions are wholly discomforting, and we mean that in the best possible light. Within the avant-garde pantheon, Bernier's work follows that of Michel Chion and Luc Ferrari doing their finest work, through dynamic juxtapositions blurting concrete sounds (bellowing car horns, steam engine growls, leaden explosions, etc) against unsettled atmospheres and spackled dronings that start and stop with a series of repeating punctuations not unlike the strategy that Nurse With Wound mastered on Homotopy To Marie. He's aware of the cinematic urge for acousmatic works, and pushes "Les chambres de l'atelier" towards a Lynchian noir with a soft-focus melody warbling in the background to a series of crunched abrasions and eerie footsteps, ruptured by ghostly noises. Excellent, through and through! Limited to 300 copies as well.
On the last list we reviewed a split record featuring Bitchin Bajas, aka Cooper Crain from hypno rockers Cave, and Faceplant, aka Aaron Coynes from Peaking Lights. Only after did we realize there there was a whole Bitchin Bajas full length that somehow just slipped right by us. So here it is, Water Wrackets, what is essentially full length number two from Crain's kosmische synth side project, this one a soundtrack apparently, to a modern remake of a 1975 film by Peter Greenaway.
Crain's soundtrack is divine, some super minimal krautdrone kosmische synthscapery of the highest order, from the opening track, "Water 1", all long layered tones, rich with shifting tonal colors and overtones, channeling the spirit of Riley and Reich perhaps, to the more distinctly krautrocky "Water 2", with a simple super minimal stripped down rhythm, beneath deep low end pulses and some shimmery sunshiney melodies. "Water 4" is hazy and lush, sun dappled and new agey, the sound warped and warbly as if it was transferred from some old filmstrip, while "Water 3" is the krautrockiest of the bunch, a darkly driving bit of rhythmic minimalism, the drums looped and locked to a slithery synth bassline, pulsing and pulsating, while all around notes and chords drift and shimmer, a hazy dreamlike swirl all anchored by that motorik rhythm. After a brief bit of synth swirl, the record finishes off with "Water 1 (Reprise)" which in fact does just that, unfurling another stretch of minimal layered drones, lush and warm, allowing the interaction between the tones to provide the motion, creating a dreamy otherworldly sonic swirl. So nice.
Packaged in super heavy tip-on style sleeves, along with a bonus dvd and a poster.
Latest from this Australian psychedelic garage synth combo, and it comes in the form of a pricey, one sided (at 45rpm!) 7" single, and it's a cover! The first in a series of Negative Guest List jukebox singles (named for the Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments tune we assume), ostensibly, at least according to the sticker on the front, this single is for your jukebox, and the series is intended to get bands to pick covers, and in redoing the song, overcome the idea of simply 'covering' a song, and while the cost may be prohibitive for some, we can't think of a jukebox that would love to include this little doozy among its musical ranks. BR take on Alex Chilton's "Hey! Little Child" and totally make it their own, adding plenty of organ and synth to a pounding rhythm that drives the proceedings, that rhythm wreathed in pulsing synth melodies, beneath some tripped out echoey vocals, loads of reverb, warbling whirring organs, some killer riffing (it is a killer riff to begin with), some wild leads, the sound crunchy and fuzzy, with a freaked out psychedelic second half where things get wild and loose and noisy. Killer stuff.
Our proto-metal pick of the week! Bullet were an early '70s UK power trio led by guitarist/vocalist John DuCann, previously a member of The Attack, Andromeda, and Atomic Rooster. A while back, when we reviewed a reissue of Atomic Rooster's classic Death Walks Behind You, we talked about DuCann, calling his post 'Rooster band Hard Stuff "one of proto-metal's best kept secrets", and guess what? The existence of these recordings by Hard Stuff precursor Bullet were an even bigger secret...
After being booted from Atomic Rooster (despite having written several of that band's biggest hits), DuCann formed this new group, Bullet (briefly before that called Daemon), with a fellow former 'Rooster, drummer Paul Hammond, along with bass player John Gustafson (ex-Quatermass), who could sing and write as well. The idea, it seems, was to play music even harder and darker than Atomic Rooster did... and the results were some high energy, riffy, rippin' stuff indeed, with song titles like "Sinister Minister" and "Hell: Demonic Possession". Distorted, fuzzed out jams for sure, but with a pop side to 'em too. They soon changed their name (for legal reasons) to Hard Stuff, and produced two excellent albums full of heavy-duty "hairy funk", Bulletproof (1972) and Bolex Dementia ('73), before a near-fatal car accident on the German autobahn involving 2/3rds of the band ended their career prematurely.
But it turns out that while they were still called Bullet, back in 1970-'71, they'd privately demoed this rough disc-ful of music, now properly released for the first time (sort of, see below) after resting for decades in DuCann's vaults. Since, currently, there don't appear to be any reissues of the Hard Stuff albums available to us, this is the next best thing. Now, if you already have yourself some Hard Stuff, you might not need this...but you'll probably want it. Many of the best songs did wind up being re-recorded by HS for their debut, but there's also lots of other cool jammy tracks on here where you get to hear DuCann really go off on his guitar, plus it's certainly rad to hear the raw early versions of catchy Hard Stuff staples like "No Witch At All". There's 17 tracks total (well, 15 really, as two of 'em, "Door Opens" and "Door Closes" are both but brief sound FX), that remind us of other proto-metal faves like Dust, James Gang ("Taken Alive" in particular), Stray, Leaf Hound, and Granicus...
The cd booklet contains extensive liner notes, in the form of an interview DuCann himself, getting in depth into the whole Bullet/Hard Stuff story. Though he doesn't have a lot to say about Daemon, who at one point had a singer named Al Shaw who perhaps appears here too. And FYI, this same material was once previously reissued on cd (a bootleg?) under the Daemon name by the Kissing Spell label.
Latest analog onslaught from this Midwestern duo who add a distinctly kitchen sink aesthetic to their brand of guitar/synth/effects soundscapery. After a brief bit of simulated field recording, cricket like electronic chitter and deep low end thrum, the record slips right into a swirling soft cacophony of warm whirring tones, wild electronics careening every which way, fragmented rhythms, clatter and crunch and bloop and bleep, spidery guitar melodies, on the surface it's a big old swirling mess, but there does seem to be a method to their madness as the various and disparate sounds seem to coalesce into something that does in fact have design, and ends up somehow listenable and not a little bit dreamy. The record continues on, shifting into something a bit more blissed out, a hazy smoldery shimmer peppered with tinkling chiming melodies, and a blurred gauzy drift, before finishing off the side with a weird bit of cartoony sonic chaos.
The B side begins with what sound like it could have been a prime slab of heroin house or minimal dub, but here it's gone totally haywire, all robotic glitch and sputter, everything reverby and echoey, clicks and pulses swooping to and fro, simultaneously dizzyingly disorienting and mesmerizingly hypnotic. The rest of the side plays out as a hazy, druggy, blurred soft psych drift, everything woozy and washed out, before finishing off with another brief bit of twisted electronic faux field recording.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES. Already sold out from the label, these could very well be the last copies we're able to get�
Includes a download coupon as well.
Record number two from this Shadow Ring offshoot, and it's another strange sonic trip, the framework in some ways similar to the Shadow Ring, in that the songs here are droned out and drifty, with the occasional vocals delivered in a haunting deep spoken word (or occasionally a hushed female croon), but the sounds in CBTG are much more dreamy and drifty, still a bit twisted and atonal in places, but the record starts with a surprisingly lush and warm bit of almost new agey soundscapery, before slipping into a short stretch of kosmische synth shimmer, it's not until a few tracks in that things begin to darken, the sound turning a bit more grim, a gurgling electronic dronescape, rumbling beneath those aforementioned hauntingly intoned spoken vocals, the whole thing peppered with sci-fi squiggles and shards of synth buzz, the A side finishing off with a sonic bookend, a reprise of the opener, another bit of warm ambient swirl, which quickly gives way to a bit of hazy synth-folk drift, that sounds a bit like Fastest / Xynfonica, the sounds slightly atonal, the melodies subtly sour, which is balanced by the sweetly crooned female vox that hover ghostlike above.
The flipside flits restlessly from epic synth prog to murky droney creep, occasionally slipping into long sprawls of low end shimmer, laced with overlapping voices, and hazy washed out melodies, bits of skittery IDM electronics surfacing here and there, and still more hauntingly intoned vox, culminating in what has to be the strangest track on the record, the weirdly riffy, dirgey, droney closer, "Passage Of Arms", a muddy stretch of muted tinny riffage, like some sort of transistor radio alien doom, the vocals sung (at least compare to the rest of the record), and while this might be the most 'rock' thing CBTG have ever done, fear not, it's still appropriately weirdly twisted and woozily warped into the perfect coda for what was already and beautifully baffling collection of sound.
When we first went to the South By Southwest music conference in Austin, we were sort of overwhelmed by how many bands were playing, often at the same time, and everywhere, in clubs, on street corners, in bars, in empty lots, and we were even more shocked by how many bands were playing that we had never heard of. Literally thousands. And of all of those bands, there was only really one we wanted to see. Based entirely on their name. Yep, it was these guys. Cerebral Ballzy. The worst band name ever? Hardly. The best? Maybe. Needless to say, we were never able to actually see them, so we comforted ourselves by just assuming they must be amazing, cuz how could a band name themselves that and NOT be?
Funny thing is, we had no idea what they sounded like. We were guessing some sort of angular new wave, or some sort of snotty garage rock, we imagined they must be from Brooklyn, and it seemed like Vice would be fans, but really what kind of assumptions can you realistically draw from a band name like theirs? So out of the blue, their debut record dropped, and before even hearing it, we were still more impressed, the cover sporting a sticker that proudly proclaimed "'We Hate This Band' - Pitchfork Media", the Pettibon cover art, the faded photocopied old punk flyer booklet and their 'logo', a skeleton flipping the bird, wearing a cholo style buttoned-up-to-the-top shirt and a Suicidal cap with the flipped up brim (although instead of Suicidal it says Cerebral), which did all start steering us in a more punk rock direction, which is in fact what these guys sound like, old school classic punk rock, a little skate punk, a little Hermosa Beach, a little Suicidal, but filtered through a more modern sonic aesthetic. They ARE from Brooklyn, and Vice DO dig em, but beyond that, we were way off. This is classic punk rock, snooty, snarly, swaggery, pounding, knuckle dragging, sweat soaked, bruised and bloody, short sharp blasts of crunch and pound that we imagine would most definitely get that pit roiling, but whether they meant to or not, that sound is peppered with some surprising melodies, some subtle post rockisms, a killer production, and loads of hooks, but those moments are definitely fleeting, as this is, at its core, PUNK RAWK. And we dig it.
Prior to Hold Everything Dear, the resurrected Cindytalk had been the work of Gordon Sharp sitting down at his computer by himself to experiment with digital glitches and abstracted electronic drones. The Crackle Of My Soul from 2009 felt more like the first fruits of Sharp wrangling with his ideas in a digital environment with a few too many compositional rough edges that were in need of refinement. Up Here In The Clouds was a marked improvement through the glassine drones and fizzing noise; but Hold Everything Dear is the first Cindytalk album that truly feels like it has a connection to those brilliant post-punk records from the early '80s. While Sharp hasn't returned to the noise-rock abjection of Camoflage Heart and he has yet to sing on any of these recent albums, the fragmented smears from bowed metals, haunted clanging bells, watery field recordings, and impressionist piano of Hold Everything Dear harken to those post-noise ambient constructions found on the Eno-esque album Wind Is Strong and which concluded In This World. Many of the cavernous sounds on the album are probably sourced from the late Matt Kinnison, who had been Cindytalk's bassist since 1982 and who died in 2008. Sharp has cast a bleary atmosphere throughout the album through subterranean passages of sodden drones, cobwebbed dark elegance, and decayed textures. Sharp pocks this album with plenty of piano interludes whose somber half melodies and shadowy ambience are pulled from the same mold as those earlier piano works. They were beautiful then, and they are still beautiful now.
The latest limited release from the the Handmade Birds label, a new and already insanely prolific sonic imprint run by Pyramids' R. Loren, comes from long time aQ faves, Finnish outsider black metal weirdos Circle Of Ouroborus. And a new record from CoO means it's time again to wonder why we even still consider these guys black metal, since it's been several years and many records since they were a proper black metal band (if they ever were at all). We are constantly baffled by groups like CoO, who are so beloved by so much of the black metal world, and we're talking the true grim hordes, yet they continue to create music that we imagine would not be pleasing AT ALL to such folk. Maybe we're selling black metallers short. Or it means the appeal is more than purely sonic. It speaks to the spirit of the sound, the black energy put into the music, which eventually must come out, even if it does as some sort of twisted Jandekian fractured folk or some minimal synth wave weirdness, at its core, the sound is dark, black, evil.
All of this talk in some ways is moot, as this latest record finds the band doing what they do, which is sort of black metal, sort of post rock, sort of whatthefuck, but it's all objective, and this music's 'blackness', or even its 'metalness', by most typically metal measures would be found wanting, but as far as we're concerned, this is exactly the sort of metallic blackness we love, murky, muddy, washed out and woozy, warped and stumbling, equal parts dark pop, fragmented folk, otherworldly creep, oh yeah and a little black buzz.
It only takes a few seconds to realize this is not at all like any black metal you've heard (unless of course you've heard lots of Circle Of Ouroborus!), the band launch into what almost sounds like Ariel Pink playing black metal, or some murky chunk of mysterious James Ferraro style lysergic pop, which just so happens to be laced with some evil vox, the riffs are blurry streaks of melody, that almost sound more like horns or keyboards (which they could be), warbly synths wheeze and sputter, the vocals alternate between gruff growl and dramatic croon, the drums distorted and stumbly, everything wreathed in a druggy haze, the sound like some alternate universe pop, or some strange mutant strain of new waves, especially when the drums switch to an almost disco beat, the blackness really only represented by the vokills, otherwise this is some gloriously warped melodic doom pop weirdness.
The B side brings things down even further, unfurling a haunting mournful bit of balladic dirgery, the sound bleary and blurry and drowsily depressive, the vocals doused in echo, those weird keyboard/horn guitars continuing to undulate and oscillate, surge an swell, creating strange ethereal melodies, which remind us of synth guitar weirdos Xynfonica / Shevalreq, the same sort of medieval majesty, but here buried in sonic murk and mire, the vocals so expressive, and strangely plaintive, the drums slipping from lazy plod to urgent pound and back again. In fact, the B side seems pretty evenly split between druggy propulsive post pop warble, and downright dreamy drift, all ephemeral and gauzy, the whole thing laced with chiming harmonics, warped melodic tangles and weirdly fluctuating production, the sound occasionally slipping into near perfect (albeit extremely damaged) pop, but more often then not, oozing and billowing, the sound seeming to melt before our ears into a warm whirling, almost liquid sound. A strangely soporific and somnolent sprawl of blurred blackness and murky melodicism, that truly is some of the weirdest, most beautifully baffling shit you will ever hear.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES! Gorgeous packaging too, super striking artwork on a gatefold reverse board jacket, with a big booklet, featuring hand inked artwork, black and white, with gold and silver metallic detail. Gorgeous!
The Buried By Time And Dust label, as their name implies, specialize (mainly) in digging up dusty old treasures from the vaults... of DOOOOM! In the past, they've brought us vinyl reissues by such doom metal legends as Witchfinder General, Pagan Altar, and Solstice.
This latest release digs even deeper into the underground. Cold Mourning were (are?) a bona fide cult doom metal band, from the '90s, based in the "misty and miserable" locale of Monterey, California. They released one full-length cd back in the day, Lower Than Low on Game Two Records, and also did a lot of splits, with the likes of While Heaven Wept, Officium Triste, and Twisted Tower Dire.
If you haven't heard of Cold Mourning before, you might still be familiar with their guitarist Angelo Tringali 'cause he's member of AQ faves Slough Feg (he replaced Hammers Of Misfortune's John Cobbett on second lead guitar some years back). While Slough Feg have their occasionally doomy moments, Cold Mourning are a much sludgier proposition, inspired especially by Saint Vitus, but more grim and freezing.
Their songs from the abovementioned splits are all found here, along with demos, previously unreleased rehearsal recordings, and more, circa 1995-'98, including their track "Boggy Creek" from the Miskatonic Records cd comp At The Mountains Of Madness.
True doom fiends will definitely want to get their doom on with Colder Than Thou. 'Tis for fans of Vitus as well as The Gates Of Slumber, for instance.
Deluxe gatefold double vinyl, packaged with an eight page booklet full of b&w live photos, demo tape covers, lyrics, etc. Suitably thick and heavy, LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
For all their majestic beauty, it can sometimes be forgotten that some of Alice Coltrane's greatest records posses an intensity and power that most noise bands these days only wish they could achieve. We can't tell you how happy we are that Impulse has reissued two of her most overlooked, and jaw dropping albums, Universal Consciousness and Lord Of Lords.
Here's what we said about these two records (now on one disc together) when we reviewed them on their own years back.
Universal Consciousness: Wow. Of the many recent Alice Coltrane reissues, we have to say this might be the best one yet. Recorded in 1971, the record swells with beauty and emotion. It is serene and drone-y, a state of suspended bliss and yearning that is colored with propulsive drumming courtesy Rashied Ali and Jack DeJohnette, tensely high-pitched violin from Joan Kalisch, shimmering bells, and of course Alice's manic improv on the harp and ocean-lulling notes on the organ.
This record is so incredibly unbelievably beautiful, there's not a track that fails to attain superlative heights. Fans of modern experimental work like Vibracathedral Orchestra and Sunroof! should also definitely check this out.
Lord Of Lords: An incredibly spiritual album by Alice Coltrane from 1972. Her music reaches some of the most "Godly" moments on here, aptly named Lord of Lords. Highlights are her excerpt of Stravinsky's "Firebird" which she performed after a "ghostly visitation" by Stravinsky who offered Coltrane musical and spiritual advice and blessings, and her orchestral version of the gospel spiritual "Going Home". Further proof that Alice Coltrane was an artist who transcended genre, while we file her in jazz for convenience, she really was also a 20th century composer, a spiritual conjurer of musical magic!
Earlier in 2011, we were introduced to the heavy-drift shoegaze of The Slaves through their impeccable Ocean On Ocean album. While we eagerly await the follow-up to that album, we were stoked to discover that The Slaves' Birch Cooper has been up to quite a lot on his own beyond the tapestries of drug-drone synth and blisswave noise of The Slaves. He's collaborated with Heavy Winged / Operative drummer Jed Binderman in The Greys, worked within the metaphysical collective known as the Oregon Painting Society, and tinkered with homebuilt electronics that are just as much sculptural as they are functional. Weird Lesson bears the first fruits of Cooper's explorations with those aforementioned synths, and it's pretty damn amazing although quite a detour from The Slaves. Here, Cooper embraces his inner Conrad Schnitzler (RIP) through these semi-improvised constructions of highly stratified electric squiggle, zonked noise, and disjointed sawtooth tones with plenty of patch-bay cuts and scattershot trajectories for all of Cooper's sounds. "Physical Dream" entertains a lovely Tim Hecker like cascade of spectral, semi-melodic wash behind all of those polyphonic electronics; and here, Cooper comes closest to what he had been presenting in The Slaves. Limited to 100 copies, with just a handful of those here in our shop.
On the cover this issue of our fave US metal glossy, Mikael Akerfeldt of Opeth, previewing their upcoming new album Heritage, which we're looking forward to hearing. Then there's also the likes of Seidr, Disma, Argus, Decapitated, Toxic Holocaust, King Fowley of Deceased (mostly not enjoying the music they're playing him in the "Call & Response" feature), Skeletonwitch (a studio report), and more... Rorschach's Protestant enters the Decibel Hall of Fame (yeah!!), and A.C.'s notorious Seth Putnam gets eulogized (RIP Seth). Plus the usual plethora of reviews, news, and funny stuff.
With a name like Dope Body, at first we kinda expected this Baltimore band to be some kind of sludge metal thing. But as we learned a while back from their split lp with NYC's Orphan, they're something else entirely. A very hard to define, WTF?, but totally enjoyable, something else indeed, that reminds us of everything from the mathy spazzcore of Lightning Bolt and USAisamonster to the DIY electronic ethno grooves of freakin' Konono No.1, wow. While some of this, their debut studio full-length, is stoner rock heavy (and one song is called "The Shape Of Grunge To Come"), it's more of a crazy melange of all sorts of wild, loud, uber-distorted, rhythmic good times! Quite catchy too.
One thing that we can't help but notice is that part of the Dope Body equation, beneath the noise-rock chaos, is a good dose of punk-funk. We get a whiff, in a good way, of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, somehow (the rubbery bassline of "Bangers & Yos", c'mon). And heck, the band in fact claim Rage Against The Machine as an influence... but we think that Dope Body themselves would appeal more to fans of Cave, Melt Banana, Health, old Boredoms, Geronimo, Shit & Shine, and Rusted Shut. Not that any of those bands sound like Dope Body either exactly, but they might if they all jammed together. Though, that would be a mess, while Nupping isn't actually as messy as it might initially sound, 'cause what Dope Body manage to do is turn all their crunching looping riffs, damaged breakbeats, skronky guitar noise, R-rollin' vocal holler, and weird dude energy, into songs - songs you could dance to! Songs you WILL dance to, furniture and small breakable objects be damned.
Bringing a sweaty warehouse party to your stereo, Dope Body deliver. We loved 'em on that split, and this full-length does not disappoint. Crank it!!
FYI, we were shorted on our order of cds, so we're listing just the vinyl now, the cd hopefully next time, though we might have a couple cds in stock now.
The author of the exceptionally well-written Scrapyard Forecast blog which focuses on all things droned-out, Adrian Dziewanski has also been slowly developing an exceptional sensibility of his own tonefloat minimalism from acoustically sourced drones. There were a couple of cassettes and cd-rs which had been floating around, mostly under the moniker Empress; but Orbital Decay is the first one that has made it to aQ. In perusing his blog, it can be something of a Nurse With Wound list of stellar minimalists and dronologists who have all informed Dziewanski on how to proceed with his own music: Pandit Pran Nath, Andrew Chalk, Jefre Cantu-Ledesma, Manu Holterbach, Barn Owl, Organum, etc. The warm cascading shimmer that pours from the speaker is a timeless drone, reminiscent of those sustained harmonic intervals that any number of the high-holy minimalists from the '60s might have produced, complete with the rasping buzz of strings that could have been sourced from a sitar, a hurdy gurdy, or even a well-tuned piece of sheet metal. Dziewanski laces this central drone with monochromatic, airy passages of levitated white noise bathed in reverb. These wisps ebb and flow in melodic currents that work into a beautifully rendered hypnosis. Does anybody remember Jim O'Rourke's 1993 album Remove The Need, of prepared guitar drones? Orbital Decay is somewhere between that record, those Keith Fullerton Whitman albums of bliss-out on Kranky, and the Nurse With Wound ambient opus Soliloquy For Lilith. Very well done and very limited. Just 125 copies of this professionally replicated cd (not a cd-r!).
Weirdo Seattle gloompunk artrock experimentalists Factums have always been tough to describe, and somehow it seems with each new record, they push their sound even further into indescribable sonic realms. Which bring us to this, a sprawling double lp called Gilding The Lilies, which seems to be a much expanded version of the 2010 tape of the same name on Night People. And like past records, it sometimes feels like you're listening to a compilation, 'cause the songs are so totally varied, and even within songs the sound is constantly shifting, from gloomy creep, to organ driven dirge, from gothy lo-fi electro, to gorgeous Eastern style buzz drenched ragas... it's fantastic, yet also fantastically confusing. But once immersed in Factums' twisted soundworld, the songs seem to make a sort of sense, fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle where all of the pieces are different shapes, but that can be assembled in any order to create an unlimited series of final images, if that makes any sense, and even if it doesn't, that almost seems more appropriate.
There was a time where these guys had a sort of Captured Tracks / Sacred Bones vibe going on, and while that does surface here and there, the group definitely seem to to have moved well beyond any sense of pop music, only dabbling here and there, while spending most of their music crafting strange soundscapes, and conjuring up mysterious sonic spirits. Dense drone out buzz is draped over skeletal percussion, everything wreathed in billows of low end warble, that warble shaped into propulsive pulsations and wedded to a lo-fi distorted sort-of-electro rhythm, over which a deep voice wreathed in a metallic shimmer croons dramatically, only to slip right back into some sitar like buzz, long layered tones, that are soon swallowed up by an undulating sine wave tone and laid out beneath a skittery jazzy drum beat, only to dissipate into a cloud of low end thrum, and rubbery electronic rhythms, surrounded by industrial crash and clatter, which then slips darkly into a rhythmic bit of buzzy drift, and, well you get the idea. Now imagine that constant meandering sonic exploration going on for wholly three more lp sides and you've got Gilding The Lilies, a fantastic head spinning sonic descent into some abstract alternate dimension soundworld, one you might find yourself in no hurry to escape...
LIMITED TO 700 COPIES!!!
We listed three new tapes from aQ beloved tape label The Tapeworm on the last list, of a batch of four new releases. This one, #4, got left behind by the post man and only just now showed up. Which was a bummer at the time, cuz it might just be our favorite of the bunch, and the reason why can be summed up in one word: EVP! Okay, maybe three words: Electronic Voice Phenomena, which is the sound of the spirit world communicating through radio static, or lost transmissions, little snippet of voices, often just a word here or there, seemingly reaching across from the other side.
This particular set of recordings comes to us from Michael Esposito, an experimental artist and EVP researcher, who over the course of his life has collected thousands of EVP recordings and who has appeared on various television programs and in a number of films and documentaries. According to the label, Fantom Auditory Operations is "an attempt is to take EVP research a step further, developing a body of work researchers and scientists may use in the future to unlock the mysteries of our own mortality", but to these ears, it actually sound more like EVP set to music, strange bits of dark ambience, fields of hiss and whir, tolling bells, rumbles and whirs and various layers and textures, as well as field recordings, wild animal calls, crackling fires, all set amidst a series of fractured melodies and undulating drones.
Apparently the recordings here were captured in a Kentucky cemetery, where in the 1800s a woman and daughter were convicted of witchcraft and burned alive. The daughter was buried in this cemetery, while the mother at another location. There is also apparently spectral figure that has been sighted, perhaps trying to get to the girl (or her spirit), but who is kept at bay by the crucifix decorated fence surrounding her grave.
It almost doesn't matter if you believe any of that or not, cuz ultimately it's all about the sounds, and the sounds here are truly captivating, ominous and otherworldly, woven into a soundscape that's tense and haunting and super cinematic, with snippets of classical music, looped bells, the tape speed constantly fluctuating, everything warped and woozy, the only constant, the crackling sound of the fire, that presumably haunts the girl and her mother to this day.
So cool. And if you love the Ghost Orchid, a long time unanimous aQ fave, you're gonna want this too!
Latest mix from this aQ beloved audio alchemist, who when he's not whipping up these murky mixes and strange sonic concoctions is playing guitar in local druggy space rockers 3 Leafs, or touring with Acid Mothers Gong or performing in a play, or even lending his voice to some video game.
But in his guise of DJ Female Convict Scorpion (yep, named for that Japanese series of women in prison flicks), his main concern is taking cool records, and melting them down into something totally new, a blurred otherworldly soundscape melding obscure jazz to lost krautrock, twisted grooves to mysterious ambience, shimmery washed out drifts wrapped around spaced out riffs and everything wreathed in old record crackle and pop. This is the sort of dark and downer DJ we want spinning records when we go out. But then listening to this stuff we imagine going out to some dark, dank, stone-walled cave-like dive, populated with all manner of shadow figures, everything lit by candlelight and firelight, the threat of violence heavy in the air...
This latest mix was presented to us as 'perfect for aQ' and then with the added descriptor 'the most evil and dark mix yet', indeed. Right down to the cover, an upside down, upside down cross (meaning rightside up) superimposed on a proper pentagram, the evil version rotated 180 degrees. And sonically, right out of the gate, some sort of black mass incantation, draped over a murky muted krautrock rhythm, laced with squalls of church organ, swirls of whipping wind, until finally, the beat kicks in, and we're off, wild psychedelic drumming, sampled fist fights, swoonsome woozy basslines, shimmery strings, strange effects and backwards loops, the various records shifting pitch, making everything warbly and trippy, and that's just the first track!
And it only gets better from there, long stretches of shimmery star field effects, some super cool rhythms, lots of slinky slithery grooves, bleating horns, field recordings, soulful vox, plenty of low slung slo-mo grooves, some killer mash ups of blackened creep and sweet soul, but also some full on horror movie soundtrack music, and so it goes slipping easily from bass heavy thrum to blissed out ethereal drift, psychedelic spaced out chaos to brooding cinematic swirl, all seemingly underpinned by a haunting sinister vibe, sometimes it's thick undulating bass buzz, othertimes it's less the sound and more just the arrangement, DJ FCS deftly conjuring up some serious audial evil. Awesome.
Good grief! FUZZ. Don't you love it? These guys do. Or, should we say did, since this was recorded back in 1973. Fire were a power trio from Yugoslavia, relocated for the purposes of playing and recording to Holland. Could You Understand Me is the only album they made -- though they cranked enuff fuzz guitar on this sufficent for ten albums! Aside from one run of the mill bar band blues cut (track three), this disc BURNS (as per their name) with heavy duty psych guitar mayhem. The last and gnarliest track here is even called "Flames". It's an instrumental, nearly nine minutes of extremely distorted, repetitive, pedals mashed, goin' for broke brainmelt. Dunno how they recorded it, musta done something wrong, but it's brilliant. They can also pen a decent tune, with the title track fer instance having a nice melodic element amidst the fuzz riffage.
Their influences were most likely Hendrix and Cream and possibly Blue Cheer. But when Fire really get burnin', we think this sounds more like current psych-mongers The Heads from the UK, or Japan's motorpsycho outfits High Rise and Mainliner.
The occasionalist project French Radio is the semi-improvised work of Bruce Anderson, Jim Kaiser, and A.C. Way. Anderson, of course, is the stalwart art-punk guitarist from MX-80; Kaiser and Way are two of the more prolific participants in the damaged improv / noise scene in the Bay Area. As all three of these gentlemen of the avant-garde have their fingers in too many pies to count here, French Radio gigs have been few and far between; and Abandonded Children is only the second album from the trio. Fortunately, they are making up for lost time with two discs worth of gloop, din, murk, and turgid abstraction. The instrumentation for French Radio puts Anderson behind a large semi-circle of effects pedals that occasionally do allow for archetypal sounds to come from the guitar that connects them; Kaiser wields his now signature bicycle wheel with contact mic contraption and some reel-to-reel tape decks; and Way has a lo-tech set-up for turntable, cheap samplers, and microphones through which he utters monotone howls bathed in blackened reverb. The trio is at their best when they dive deep into a subterranean noise, nearing the depths of something oozing from Locrian or Blue Sabbath Black Cheer, as metallic clanks from Kaiser's wheel lumber against strangely soothing blasts of cold noise; but when Anderson's lonesome guitar strums through the din, French Radio is as compelling as anything that Barn Owl has mustered. Each of the three lengthy tracks were studio recordings, made without any overdubs. A limited cd-r release, mind you!
Latest chunk of quirky twang flecked pop from this band whose lineage includes loads of long time aQ faves including the late great Red Red Meat. And while that lineage does show itself in Fruit Bats' country folk leanings, they really are much more of a pop band, and seem to be getting poppier with every release, the sort of pop though that few bands seem to make anymore, heartfelt classic old time pop, lush arrangements, subtle orchestrations, swirling strings, soaring vocals, gorgeous harmonies, tinkling chimes, buzzing steel string guitars, swirling synths, and frontman Eric Johnson has one of THOSE voices, delicate, but strangely powerful, high and keening, often compared to Gram Parsons, which is perfect for the constantly shifting, ever lush popscapes that make up the bulk of this record. Fans of popgroops like the Shins and Death Cab, will find much to love here, but we like to think Johnson and Co. are just a tad too far out for the masses, which is really the only thing that explains their lack of mainstream popularity, cuz to these ears, while the sound and songs here do bear the hallmarks of many, more popular and commercially successful groups, the devil is in the details, and the details here are what make this way more subtly twisted that your average pop record. Yet another incredible album, by a group who seems to be incapable of making a bad one...
Super swank diecut packaging, the front cover with a big pyramid shaped cutout revealing the artwork from the inner sleeve, while on the back cover there's a much smaller triangular cutout, revealing another little glimpse of the artwork inside.
We love reissues. We love discovering new music, or more accurately OLD music that we had somehow never heard before. But we also love the reissues that give us the opportunity to rave about records we love, and have loved for years, that for whatever reason, we never got to review on the aQ list. Which is the case with this sick chunk of sounds right here. The debut from Swedish gore grinders General Surgery, who did what any young band might do, and started a band with the intention of sounding EXACTLY like their favorite band, which in GS's case would be none other than the legendary Carcass. But where other bands might take that as a jumping off point, forging their own way, General Surgery seemed to do just the opposite, crafting a pitch perfect slab of grinding medical themed metallic heaviness that KILLS, and that sounds SOOO much like Carcass it's criminal, which it would be if it weren't so goddamn great. We often joke, always in the company of Carcass fans, that General Surgery's Necrology is the best Carcass record, mostly to get their goat, but there is a little truth to that too. Released the same year as Carcass' Necroticism (coincidence? we think not), Necrology is pitch perfect, in fact, opener "Ominous Lamentation" basically IS Carcass' "Genital Grinder", and from there on, it's pure Carcass style gore/grind goodness, check the song titles: "Slithering Maceration Of Ulcerous Facial Tissue", "The Succulent Aftermath Of A Subdural Haemorrhage", "Grotesque Laceration Of Mortified Flesh", the guitar tone, the riffs, the vokills, it's insane. BUT, and this really is a big but, for all of its Carcass aspirations, they aren't Carcass, so in attempting to be a band they are not, they manage, perhaps inadvertently, to make something weirdly sort of original, with a sound that does sound like Carcass, but is also in its own way, purely General Surgery. We know that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. But lots of bands start off emulating their favorite bands, but in trying to sound like that band, end up finding their own sound, it just so happens that General Surgery's own sound is like a slightly twisted version of their favorite band's sound. It really depends on your mindset, some aQ-ers love Carcass like crazy, and think this is sorta bullshit, but others, also love Carcass like crazy, but recognize this for what it is, the best Carcass record Carcass never made!
The new version of Necrology finds the disc getting a swank digipak packaging upgrade, as well as tacking on four bonus tracks, all alternate versions of tracks from the record proper, in a slightly more raw and noisy version.
It'd normally be enough that Finders Keepers / B-Music decided to reissue a soundtrack, we'd assume it was awesome just 'cause they gave it their stamp of approval. That's true. But this one, though, well how could it NOT be good, with that title/concept?? Awesome music aside, heck we wanna see the movie. Werewolves On Wheels, for reals? As one of the radio adverts included here as a bonus track puts it: "Here comes the most eerie, the most chilling, the most terrifying motorcycle horror film ever made... Werewolves On Wheels - in color - is the most unusual bizarre film yet... Werewolves On Wheels is the ghoulish story of a wild motorcycle gang lost in the desert, mocking the supernatural... one by one they die... unnatural unbelievable deaths... they are afraid of nothing but they cannot fight what they cannot see and do not understand!" Sounds good, doesn't it? As lovers of another Satanic psychedelic '70s motorcycle horror film, Psychomania, we're sold. And like Psychomania, this has a way cool soundtrack. Which can also be filed alongside another biker B-Music release, Billy Green's Stone OST.
This 1971 low budget chiller thriller's "Main Theme" is 5+ minutes of percussive rhythms adorned with flashes of fuzz guitar, simple and effective, as hypnotic as it is haunting. Groovy! That's followed by the hippie country rock of "Mount Shasta Home", and there's another cool slice of country tonk later on with "One Foot In Heaven", but the majority of the soundtrack is devoted to more abstract, weirdly stumbling, atmospheric stuff, perhaps trying to evoke a tripped out Native American desert vibe, with ringing and rattling and what sounds like wrasslin'... there's sudden stabs of synth and the occasional line of campy movie dialog. Several of the tracks (the three spooky "Ritual" ones in particular) could be sinister krautrock jams, full of thumping hand drums, crackling fire, and synthesizer sounds. Other tracks are more groovadelic, yet creepy too, with propulsive rhythms, acid guitar licks, droning FX, and of course revving motorcycle engines and screams of terror.
For all we know, the movie, the directorial debut of Roger Corman/Russ Meyer associate Michel Levesque, isn't even so bad it's good. But the soundtrack, it's for sure fantastic! If The Byrds had teamed up with Goblin to do a soundtrack, maybe this is what the results would have sounded like!?! We're also reminded of Ry Cooder's Cyleib People - if they jammed with Sylvester Anfang, perhaps. The label suggests a Sandy Bull/Amon Duul team up, and we won't argue with that comparison either. Another winner - of course - from the Finders Keepers folks!!
Giant Sand are probably most well know for featuring the rhythm section of John Convertino and Joey Burns, who left to form aQ beloved Calexico, and who would end up becoming WAY more popular than Giant Sand. But they are so much more than that, and so much of their music directly informed the sound of Calexico.
This reissue celebrates 25 years of Giant Sand, and is part of a comprehensive reissue of all the GS records. Glum, originally released back in 1994, was many folks first exposure to the band, which was a bit ironic considering it was their ELEVENTH album, but it was their first for a big label, and their first with a big budget, but none of that did anything to temper the group's experimental proclivities and difficult sonic tendencies, which is precisely why it might just be thee best. Sand mastermind Howe Gelb gathered up everyone who had ever played with them in the past and assembled what was essentially a Giant Sand big band. And the band set out to make Glum.
For those who have never heard Giant Sand before, as we mentioned before there's definitely a line that can be drawn from Calexico, the same sort of deserty shuffle, a dark countryish twang, but with Gelb's super distinctive drawl, and cool distorted guitar playing, like a warped Neil Young, blasts of gnarled psychedelia or bursts of squealing feedback erupting from the most tranquil of tracks. Just check out the title track, which is definitely one of our favorites, a dark twangy shuffle, Gelb crooning over muted minor key fingerpicking, and whirring organ, a sort of slowcore country, but then bam, the sharp crack of a snare, and some super distorted angular riffing, very Marc Ribot like in fact, which becomes a warm wash of chords, only to fade out again leaving that original dark shuffle.
"Yer Ropes" is more of a rocker, and could have bit a hit in some alternate universe, the sound lush and warm, the guitars thick and fuzzy, the drums muscly, and Gelb's voice sounding better than ever.
This whole record is just magical, and the family/big band vibe of Giant Sand is evident everywhere, from the sweet vocals of Victoria Williams, the oh so sweet "Bird Song", written and sung by Gelb's daughter, in a bid to prolong her bedtime, with Gelb adding some creepy chords, and the family pitching in on drums and bass, or the heartbreaking version of "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry", a gorgeous version sung by long time GS collaborator Pappy Allen, who passed away, soon after, featuring both his wife and daughter on backup vocals, and it's those sorts of songs, that most bands would leave off the record proper, that so defined Giant Sand's idiosyncratic approach to music making, one born of a seemingly pure love for, and joy in, creating, in singing and playing and performing, and that totally seeps into every note, every song, and every sound here.
The rest of the songs on Glum are just as great, the band getting heavy and distorted as often as hushed and melancholic, the songs peppered with strange sampled sounds, lush layers, whatever they could think of, all woven into something special and unique, their sound falling somewhere between Sparklehorse, Uncle Tupelo, Neil Young, Calexico and other similar country rockers, but there's something about Giant Sand that is utterly unlike any of the others. Which is probably why they never really got super popular. But then that's probably also exactly why we love them, and this record in particular, so much.
This reissue tacks on six extra songs, that sound like they could have come from the same sessions, and if that is indeed the case, it's kind of hard to figure out why they were left off, cuz they're pretty goddang great, beautiful and strange, like the band itself. Also included is new liner notes written by Gelb, about the making of the record, the songs, and what all was going on with GS way back in 1994.
The last time we were this jazzed (sorry, couldn't help it!) about a jazz reissue of an artist we had very little or no knowledge of beforehand, was the great Lloyd Miller collection, A Lifetime In Oriental Jazz. So it makes perfect sense that Jazzman, the amazing label who brought us Lloyd Miller, is now introducing us to the musical world of Jef Gilson, a talented French musician, arranger, band leader, sound engineer, music teacher, label owner, and multi instrumentalist. The songs that make up this best of collection are some of the most irresistible, suave, soulful and surprising that we've heard in any form in such a long time.
Spanning a period from the early '60s into the '90s this shows so many different facets of Gilson's recording career. From bebop, to orchestral pop, to multi cultural intersections, to hypnotizing operatic excursions. This is forward thinking jazz, filled with exquisite playing but more importantly an endlessly creative and explorative mindset that has left every track on this collection feeling so fresh and alive all these years later. This is one of those records we would like Yo La Tengo to check out next time they were in the store, as we could really imagine Ira and Georgia at home in their living room reading and relaxing while the sounds of Jef Gilson provided the perfect ambience to a crisp fall morning.
80 minutes of music, 32 pages of in depth liner notes, this might just be a contender for jazz we'd never heard of before reissue of the year! Highly recommended.
Latest from Bay Area black metal duo Lascoiec, a split with a band (person) called Gnieu, from Belarus, who we had never heard before, but who, after about a minute of the first track, might just be one of our new favorite bands. After a brief bit of doomic creep, the song erupts in a flurry of twisted tangled buzz, the drums a chaotic stutter, the riffs, so blurry and black, they're just a wall of thrum, while a strange melody, played on another guitar, or a keyboard, hard to say, flutters and flits and gets all tangled up, and eventually the sound seems to coalesce into something more traditionally buzzy and black, but then continues to constantly shift and transform, exploding into impossibly fast burst of blackbuzzblur, the drums completely bizarre, skittery and super intricate, the sound stumbling into wildly chaotic crush, before exploding again in a wild squall of bleary eared blur, there seems to be some keyboards too, but instead of making obvious keyboard noises, they just thicken the sound, adding texture and buried melody, the result is something warm and washed out, epic and majestic, black and buzzy, and in its own way sort of free and abstract, but also weirdly haunting and pretty, without losing any of its grim mystery. As the record progresses, the sound remains firmly in some sonic netherworld, guitars are swathed in reverb, unfurl surfy almost riffs, only to slip into a weird bit of minimal ambient jangle, before building to some sort of dirgey drift, only to again lurch into an explosive sprawl of warped blackness. Pretty sure we're gonna have to track down every single thing from these guys.
And we haven't even gotten to the Lascowiec side, who start things off with a bit of natural ambience, a dreamy bit of folky guitar over birdsong, lilting and dreamy, laced with some subtle mysterious sounds and effects, but for the most part very pretty, only to abruptly switch to some murky minor key black buzz, the sound warm and washed out, the vocals a buried demonic croak, the sound haunting and majestic, grim and depressive, and like all the Lascowiec we've heard managing to sound both intense and black, yet weirdly haunting and lovely, could be partially the production, wrapping everything in a gauzy veil of blurred shimmer, but it also seems to be the melodic structure and the arrangements, definitely frantic and frenzied, but muted and a muddied, dreamily lo-fi, but without ever losing its blackened brutality.
A pretty fantastic split, a new discovery (and obsession) and an old favorite, both sides getting much repeat play around here for sure.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Each one hand numbered.
Latest from this Southern doom/sludge supergroup, featuring none other than Dixie Dave of Weedeater and Buzzov*en as well as T-Roy Medlin from Sourvein, and members of Beaten Back To Pure and Alabama Thunder Pussy, and while you might be expecting the usual dose of NOLA drug induced slo-mo downtuned sludge-dirge bliss, you'd only be half right, cuz these guys spend much of their time on Disperse The Curse blasting and thrashing and pounding away, cranking up the tempo, channeling Motorhead and High On Fire, spitting out a sort of blackened sludge thrash, with furious riffing and flurries of frantic double kick drumming, the songs lurching from tarpit creep to Sabbathy swagger to full on blasting thrashed out riffrock heaviness. The vocals a glass gargling rasp, the band unfurling some surprisingly melodic stuff here and there, leads, guitar harmonies, which pepper the otherwise feedback drenched pound and pummel.
Opener "Shoot The Pigs" is a killer, some seriously hook filled heaviness, with wicked drumming, equally wicked riffing, and a downright proggy arrangement, it's all pretty fast except for a half time churning riffy creep that KILLS.
"Gifted Horse" is more of the same, the double kick drums adding some serious heft to the already thrashing blackened pummel, the band slipping to sludgey grooves here and there, but it's not until track three, the title track, that things get downright sludgey and dirgey, sounding like some Southern Rock band on Quaaludes. And so the rest of the record goes, swinging wildly from tarpit crush to blown out blast, culminating in the epic doom sludge crawl of record closer "Blacked Out In Broad Daylight", that beyond pounding and creeping and howling and buzzing, manages to get downright psychedelic to boot!
Record number two from this hateful harsh suicidal black metal band turned dark gothy gloom wave outfit, and the band continue to shed the black vestiges of their past incarnation, moving ever toward a more purely darkwave pop sound, and like on their debut, Famine (Or Into The Bellies Of Worms), the sound here is all warm muted buzz, propulsive drum pound, low slung slithery basslines, all woven into a droned out darkly psychedelic chunk of sweet sonic miserablism, the vocals this time a bit more strident in places, and powerful, making this sound more like Killing Joke than anything. Although the deep dramatic croon from the first record remains, and seems to be again channeling Andrew Eldridge from Sisters Of Mercy. There are also long droned out tones, that sound like horns, but could be guitars or synths, the effect is the same, adding a sort of mournful funeral quality, which is balanced by the chiming melodies, and the almost Cure-like songcraft, although it's more like Cure filtered through Circle, as the tracks have a looped krautrock like mesmer to them, hypnotic and trancelike.
Some of the tracks are peppered with weird squelchy synths and electronics, adding a weird spaciness to the proceedings, but for the most part, the sound here is a dark, driving minimal gloom pop, with the guitars occasionally slipping into an almost metallic chug, but tending more toward the angular crunch of echo drenched jangle, there are samples too, but really with music like this, it's all abut the bass and drums, that sort of Joy Division foundation that's in full effect here, and is dark and driving and dreamily depressive, mournful and melancholic, Hateful Abandon like the darker grittier version of Nuit Noire gloom pop offshoot Soror Dolorosa, and really anyone who dug that (did anyone not?) will love this too!
Released on the always kick ass UK label Todestrieb.
Anyone here looking for black buzz or grimnoise or punked out heaviness or bizarre metal, should turn back now. Cuz as much as we love that stuff, and sure we subsist on a steady diet of buzz and howl, pound and crunch, but one most definitely can't survive on that stuff alone. And most of us here, if you dig past the buzzy droney exteriors, will find a heart of pop. Which is exactly why we've been loving this, the debut from Seattle folk pop outfit The Head And The Heart, who apparently sold 10,000 copies of this record on their own before Sub Pop swooped in to repackaged and reissue this. Which is a good thing, cuz we would have never heard it otherwise. The first track is all it'll take to convince you if this is your cup of tea or not, a sub two minute chunk of dreamy folky strum, with gorgeous vocal harmonies, simple acoustic guitar strum, some sweet piano, all woven into a perfect little chunk of folky pop, that sounds like it would fit somewhere between Fleet Foxes, Iron And Wine and Belle And Sebastian, there's maybe even a little Decemberists in there too. And some classic power pop a la The Zombies, The Kinks, Beach Blys, etc. The vibe is definitely pop, leaning a bit toward old timey pop, mixing in lots of classic twang and folk, the vocal harmonies are a little bit gospel-y, the songs slipping from brooding and ballady to rollicking and rocking, to soaring and bombastic, hooks a plenty, but also plenty of moody atmosphere. It's hard to say exactly what it is about this record that hooked us, but it did, big time, and we find ourselves listening to it more than we thought we would, so much so, that a few of these songs have gotten lodged solidly in our heads, and show now sign of leaving any time soon, which is just fine with us!
A few lists back we reviewed a 12" collaboration between blackened metallic dronelord Horseback, and blackdoomdrone duo (and sometimes trio) Locrian, which was a gorgeous slab of black drone heaviness, fusing the power of both groups. Here, in a sort of sonic coda, each group goes it alone.
Horseback unfurl a hazy droned out raga, the track centered around a glorious high end drone, all shimmer and reverberation, the sound sun dappled and gloriously effulgent, very much like Sunroof!, mesmerizing and dreamlike, to which HB adds, some twisted gnarled vocals, all hissy and demonic, wreathing the whole thing in little melodic tendrils, the sound blissed out and gauzy, the blackness seemingly held at bay by this shining sonic light, the sort of track that is WAY too short on a 7", we could listen to stuff like this forEVER.
Locrian counter with something much more dark and grim, a churning bit of blurred tarpit riffage, a dirgey bit of SUNNO))) like thrum, but that low end creep is soon swaddled in delicate crystalline melodies, and thick hazy streaks of high end shimmer, that weird doomy dirge immediately transformed into something more dreamlike and ethereal. Vocals drift in, deep liturgical chanting, draped over the dirgey riffage and swaddled in the chiming melodies, the sound seeming to grow ever hazier and more ephemeral before fading out completely.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!!
As if all of the projects that Emeralds' synth wrangler John Elliott weren't enough, he's adopted a pseudonym to record under the Imaginary Softwoods banner. The name's Blue O'Randa here, although there's little doubt as the authorship of the sounds. With the exception of the bittersweet attitude of "Rainbow Obsidain Key" and its faux-harpsichord melodies, The Path Of Spectrolite fully embraces the New Age path that Elliott, ummm, O'Randa has been teasing us with through all of his recordings. With all of the aquatic bubbling, bright-eyed synth pads, cosmic shot dream-drone, and harmonic tonal shimmer, Imaginary Softwoods bare more than passing resemblance to the likes of Iasos. Limited to just about 500 copies.
Stereolab named a song after them, Belle & Sebastian and the Magnetic Fields have made careers of taking their influence from them, and we hope the Left Banke finally get the widespread love and attention they so deserve all these decades later. Born out of the orchestral pop strands of The Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby", The Left Banke were the teenage pioneers of the Baroque Rock sound, marrying minor key melody with chamber pop arrangements of harpsichords, string sections and woodwinds. Though the sound ultimately took off more in Britain, The Left Banke were the sole innovators stateside giving them an edge as their two biggest (and sadly only) hits, "Walk Away Renee" and "Pretty Ballerina", propelled them towards a short-lived wider recognition. Sundazed has done a great service reissuing both of the bands records to show that they were much much more than just a two-hit band.
Too is the bands lesser known and last release from 1968 and while the band lost main songwriter and keyboardist Michael Brown for most of it (he returned to record the single, "Desiree" which baffingly didn't chart!), there is plenty to recommend it. Slightly more upbeat than the first album, the vocal harmonies (including the presence of Steven Talarico aka Aerosmith's Steven Tyler on backing vocals!) push the feel toward sunshine pop, sounding much closer to the Beach Boys than before. Yet the melancholy of Brown's contributions plus the beautiful but quirkily titled "Dark is The Bark" give the overall mood a complex prettiness. Lush orchestrations and studio wizardry (lots of backwards effects and psychish phasing) make this album just as gorgeous as the first, and we're glad its lost status is finally seeing some well-deserved light. Recommended!
Stereolab named a song after them, Belle & Sebastian and the Magnetic Fields have made careers of taking their influence from them, and we hope the Left Banke finally get the widespread love and attention they so deserve all these decades later. Born out of the orchestral pop strands of The Beatles' "Eleanor Rigby", The Left Banke were the teenage pioneers of the Baroque Rock sound, marrying minor key melody with chamber pop arrangements of harpsichords, string sections and woodwinds. Though the sound ultimately took off more in Britain, The Left Banke were the sole innovators stateside giving them an edge as their two biggest (and sadly only) hits, "Walk Away Renee" and "Pretty Ballerina", propelled them towards a short-lived wider recognition. Sundazed has done a great service reissuing both of the bands records to show that they were much much more than just a two-hit band.
And that may be hard to gather from a debut record named after those two biggest hits, but Walk Away Renee / Pretty Ballerina from 1967 is one of the finest sixties pop albums ever! Fronted by vocalist Steve Martin-Caro and keyboardist/songwriter Michael Brown, The Left Banke were the more melancholy and introspective counterpoint to the Beach Boys sunny outgoing harmonies. We bring up the Beach Boys because both bands had further similarities. Both bands employed session musicians and both had managers who were also fathers of the main bandmembers that were subsequently fired when they started getting more successful. Further rifts occured right away when Brown, taking cues from Brian Wilson, didn't feel he had to to tour with the band, complicating band dynamics to the point of him leaving the band after this record, only to return to record one last single ("Desiree" featured on Too) that sadly didn't chart.
But band complications aside, this record is on par with the Zombies' Odessey & Oracle and Something Else by the Kinks. Seriously. Songs like "She May Call You Up Tonight", "Let Go Of You Girl", and "Barterers and Their Wives" show that their antiquated look and arrangements were far from a gimmick, but a means to get into some deeply complex and heartfelt songwriting. These records sound better than ever. Essential!
Without a doubt one of the most creative and pleasurable groups making electronic tinged dance pop these days. What sets Little Dragon so far ahead of the crowd is that they are such innovative music makers as well as having the amazing talents of lead singer Yukimi Nagano, who really does have one of the most soulful and seductive voices around. Ritual Union is one of the most perfect electro pop albums of the year. The songs and sounds on the record let you go deep into you body. But it's not just a surface high that makes you shake it for a moment, but instead something you feel dig into you deeper and actually grab a hold of your spirit and soul. Like some of the best work that Herbert & Dani Siciliano made together, or if Prince in his prime teamed up with Lykke Li to make a record smart enough to want to spend intimate time with, yet fun enough to want to blast so loud when your friends are around. Colors, shapes and melody all swirling together into something so intoxicating, and so totally good for you. This is becoming our absolute summer jam!
Second solo record from Preston Nunez, whose 'day job' is playing in cosmic synth drone outfit Scantily Clad, whose three cd-r's were all big hits around here. A little while back Nunez sent us some copies of the debut record from his new group Guisher, which while bearing virtually no relation to Scantily Clad, still totally hit the spot, a head spinning bit of slice and dice audio collage weirdness, rhythmic and groovy and noisy and all over the sonic map. So we weren't entirely sure what to expect from this new project, Mafouka, which definitely has more in common with Guisher than with Scantily Clad, but where Guisher was a relentless sonic barrage, Mafouka sounds more measure and composed, at least a bit, it's still a bit of a barrage, 14 songs in a little under 20 minute, short bursts of hypnotic soundscaping. The opening track is all woozy and warped, a rhythms created from what sounds like a needle scratching across the surface of a record, not to mention some slowed down beats, looped female vocals, shimmery synths, it's like a super raw, primitive home brewed Portishead almost, that sort of washed out, late night vibe, then the next three tracks, all clocking in at well under a minute each, offer up brief snippets of sound, from a layered and looped but of easy listening, to some dialogue heavy, drum addled ambience, to a killer chunk of super distorted dirgey doom, again laced with bizarre samples, until finally another song that breaks the 2 minute mark, a synthy distorted creeper, the sound panning from speaker to speaker, laced with chopped up bits of drumming, layered voices, warm swirling melodic shimmer, which leads directly into another twisted, surprisingly melodic loopscape, from which unfurls the rest of the record, a sprawling selection of primitive sampledelia, equal parts Art Of Noise and Negativland, but all woven into something much more moodily musical, a glorious bit of home brewed 4-track alchemy that in some way plays out like a bedroom indie pop Endtroducing, albeit a bit more freaked out and fractured.
More super extravagant home mad packaging, this time, colored jewel cases with the art printed onto clear stickers which are affixed to the front, no tray, the 3" disc affixed to the inside of the trayless jewel case, over some photocopied artwork pasted into the bottom, which is also visible through the back of the jewel case, which has yet another clear sticker affixed to it. LIMITED TO 50 COPIES!!
A few months ago, "Open The Gates", now, "The Deluge" -- it's a deluge indeed, of Manilla Road reissues! Manilla Road? They're the ultimate obscure American fantasy metal band from the '80s, a cult group if there ever was one, having a bit of a resurgence today
We didn't really expect to like this all that much. A sort of indie rock super group, featuring members of Modest Mouse, The Unicorns and Man Man, it was only once we discovered that the band described their music as "doom-wop", that we became really intrigued, and while we're not sure if this really sound like doom-wop, what we do know is that we like it a LOT. Somewhere between the indie rock of Built To Spill and the propulsive electronic rockisms of modern Britpop (Killers, Arctic Monkeys, etc.), this is at its core indie pop, but with a definite retro old timey vibe, the band infusing the usual jangle with sixties girl group-isms, pounding piano, twangy guitars, lots of ooh ooh back ground vox, some slithery swagger, and yeah, a little '50s doo wop, but all of those elements are blurred into a sound that is its own distinctive thing, with no real nods to any of the members' other groups (thankfully), instead, crafting a super, hooky, jangly, crunchy, fuzzy, and occasionally brooding and dark, chunk of catchy as hell indie rock.
Our favorite moments are, not surprisingly, the darker jams here, opener "Bronx Sniper" might be our fave, a heavy bombastic bit of indie prog stomp, that definitely sounds like it could come courtesy of the latest UK art pop sensation, or the song "Doom Wop", a chugging, droned out, fuzz drenched brooder, with big drums and weirdly effected vocals, and while there are some straight up '50s style throwbacks, there are some killer indie pop gems, all these different sounds woven into something that we just can't seem to stop listening to.
We get so many records submitted to us for consideration, and like we've said before we really do listen to everything that comes our way (though it does sometimes take us forever!) and it's always worth it because of gems like this. We haven't heard a pop record with this much ambition, depth and dynamic range of sound in a long, long time. Michael Musika has a really unique approach to crafting not only songs but an overall feeling that flows throughout the album. With interludes filled with beautiful bells and dreamy vibes which cast an interesting spell, and then proper songs which tap into a side of quirky, orchestral pop that you just don't hear done that often or this well, these days. Taking elements of Emmit Rhodes, Biff Rose, and Van Dyke Parks, San Francisco's Micheal Musika has created his own world of cinematic pop glory.
Longtime readers of the aQ list might remember Myles Of Destruction, fronted by long time aQ pal Myles Donovan. A kick ass trio of drums, bass and violin, a little bit metal, a little bit grind, a little bit gypsy stomp, an unlikely cross between Amps For Christ, Warlock Pinchers, Emperor and Magnetic Fields maybe. Well Myles is back with a new band that's a bit darker and a whole lot doomier, the evocatively monikered Negative Queen, which we initially surmised came from the Pansy Division song, but according to the liner notes is actually something someone said to Donovan at one point, oh and it might be worth pointing out at this point then Negative Queen are purveyors of QUEER DOOM. And while we weren't sure what to expect sonically, would it be ultra blown out sludge, or downtuned metallic plod, we were pleasantly surprised to discover it was neither, instead, something more spare and sparse, more moody and melodic, tapping into a sort of swampy apocalyptic creep more than anything, hints of Woven Hand and Nick Cave, a sort of gothy grim moodiness that wreathes the minimal drumming, the spidery minor key guitars, the warm low slung bass, and the deep dramatic croon. And while it's definitely heavy and dark enough that metalheads should give this a chance, it definitely sounds like something that would be way more at home alongside the darkwave and slowcore in your collection. Did we mention Swans? The Swans vibe is huge too. The sound lush and layered, hauntingly atmospheric, just instead of pounding and pummeling, it creeps and slithers, drift and plods, dark and doomy for sure, but also strangely dreamy.
Available again, this killer compilation of early material from legendary Bay area slo-mo sludge/doom crushers Noothgrush, who recently reformed and are about to play a show with the also together-again East Coast doomlords Winter.
Back in the nineties, Noothgrush were a ubiquitous presence, playing all the time, and releasing records at a crazy clip, splits to be precise, Noothgrush were the master of the split 7", sharing records with Corrupted, Gasp, Agents Of Satan, Deadbodieseverywhere, Black Army Jacket, Carol Ann, Wellington and more. And the interesting thing is the band never actually recorded a proper full length. In fact, the two 'albums' they released were both compilations, collecting all the comp tracks and singles. We reviewed Erode The Person, which is sadly now out of print again, which gathered up the later recordings of the band, and in the review we lamented the fact that this one was sadly out of print. Well it's available again, and is here to again remind the world, that there was some serious downtuned pummel and tarpit doomsludge creep happening LONG before Boris / SUNNO))) / Whitehorse and all the rest threw their dirge-doom hat into the ring. And like we mentioned before, Noothgrush were just about a decade too early.
So Failing Early, Failing Often, originally released on Bay Area powerviolence/fastcore label Slap A Ham, is brimming with Sabbath-at-16rpm dirgery and creeping blackened crawls, loads of feedback, the drums a glacial stumble, provided by the cute and diminutive Chiyo (she most definitely a nineties SF metalhead crush), the vocals a howled raspy bellow, lots of samples too, from movies, and politicians, the sound crusty and blackened, with many of the tracks here from the WAY early days, old demos and cassettes, which means the sound on those is even more filhty and lo-fi and raw. Punishing and heavy as fuck, droned out and dreary and druggy and so good, even all these years later.
Fans of the current crop of doomlords and dirge merchants, who somehow missed out on these guys (and gal) would do well to check this out. And if you loved Erode The Person, well this is the second part to what with EtP is essentially one massive compilation/career retrospective.
If your cover art looks like a lost Unleashed album, sign me up. Portland's Oakhelm arrived at our fortress walls with axes in hand -- both electric guitars and battle weapons, yes. Their debut album, Betwixt & Between, shows these rookie Vikings doing some serious shredding that would easily make it onto Dan Swano's iPod, possibly even Peter Tagtgren's just because of the vocals. That being said, these North-Westerners probably don't think you should be laughing because this ain't no joke, it's a call to arms. What are we fighting? Our best guess is dragons and Christian invaders. But seriously, all of the necessary ephemera is here, while a sense of irony is thankfully conspicuously absent. A very good thing. Now that that debate is over, you're free to embrace everything fantastic and mystical that died out alongside the popularity of many of the classic Century Media bands of the past. This is a die-hard attempt to re-create the glory of mid-'90s Northern-European death/black/Viking metal. We're especially reminded of ol' Viking horde Mithotyn at their most dark and doomful. Go ahead and headbang, but make sure not to fall off your horse. Did we mention that they have members of Fall of Bastards, Wormwood, L'Acephale, Black Queen and Assuck among their ranks?! Well, they do. Recommended!
Now reissued on vinyl!
In their vigilant unearthing of one-off psych and folk obscurities, the Sunbeam label has been one of our favorite reissue labels even if their catalog can sometimes be hit and miss. Their vision, however is remarkably consistent, never reissuing a rare record just for the sake of it being rare, and making a practice of working with the original artists whenever possible to put together these reissues, like this one, a 1969 British psych rock rarity by The Open Mind, who were a mop-topped gang of guys from the paisley era. They liked to stroll on the harder, rockier side of the '60s psych-pop street, and this album contains a few gems for sure, *especially* the first of the four bonus tracks included, their truly great single "Magic Potion". That's the one for which they'll really be remembered (and it can be found on the Speaking My Mind: New Rubble Volume 2 compilation as well). It was also later covered by '90s space rock band Sundial. We think some proto-metal fans might dig it too!
