With a name like (((o))) we were pretty much imagining some SUNNO)) like rumbles and slo-mo glacial low end creep, and this Mexican drone/dirge soundscaper did not disappoint, but like everything released on Auris Apothecary, one of our new favorite labels, the over the top packaging deserves as much discussion as the music. This one comes as a black tape, wrapped in a full color fold out paper sleeve, sealed shut with a black wax seal, housed inside a black velvet bag, screen printed on both sides and sealed with a drawstring, while alongside the tape inside is also a small sealed bag containing hand broken Mexican obsidian, hand numbered too. It's a gorgeous little piece of art, which just so happens to contain some amazing sounds. Thankfully, regardless of whatever inspiration (((o))) drew from SUNNO))), the sounds here are much more varied and interesting. The tape opens with some deep drones, but are soon accompanied by some haunting female spoken word, in Spanish, before slipping into a woozy bit of soft focus psychedelic guitar, all spidery melodies, drifting in an expansed of greyed ambient shimmer. The tape twists and turns, slipping from a crumbling processed chunk of blurred noise to full on Merzbowian buzz (infused with all manner of murky melody and clattery percussion), from rumbling de-tuned tarpit riff ooze to field recording flecked blacknoise ambience, and finally to a swirling windswept chunk of pulsing, distorted rhythmic murk, all pulsing distorted swells and buried blackened melodies, weirdly hypnotic, noisy, but still impossibly pretty.
LIMITED TO 99 COPIES!!!
And here's a nifty promo video the label made:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfwQh2dcBV8&
The intermittent project Angel might become something more prolific, now that Pan Sonic has decided to terminate its mission leaving Ilpo Vaisanen to pursue other matters. Since 2000, Vaisanen has collaborated with Dirk Dresselhaus of Schneider TM under the guise of Angel to produce a peculiar set of electro-acoustic abstractions, often finding them working with the avant-cellist Hildur Gudnadottir. On thie new album for Editions Mego, 26000, Angel can come across like an even more plodding and menacing Supersilent attempting to remove all of its jazz references, leaving weird squiggles and gestures within a cavernous dank reverberation offset by crystalline electronics and found object manipulation. Such events were not uncommon in the narcoleptic sound collages that Pan Sonic would wander into at the end of some of their records. Gudnadottir's cello (and something called a "halldorophone" that sends a controlled feedback loop into the strings of a modified cello) appears on the glacial finale of the album "Paradigm Shift" with isolationist passages and radiotone flicker. All of this is set in contrast with the monstrous form destruction of "Before The Rush" composed with the help of BJ Nilsen. Here, Angel takes up the sheer hellish miasma torch with an explosion of digital abuse bracketed by leaden seas of grey drones and all sorts of post-Tudor scabrous noises and nervous scratches.
We weren't really sure what to expect from this record really, we were initially struck by the very un- black metal like metallic red and gold cover art, and rumors that this new German black metal band did in fact feature members of aQ beloved Katharsis (which did later prove to be true). But really all it took was the first couple tracks, the opener a haunting intro of sorts, all creepy blackened drones and strange industrial clatter, chanted gurgled vocals, the sound like it was recorded in some huge stone crypt, eventually guitars surface, and drums too, but instead of immediately launching into a wild blast of black buzz, the guitars build slowly, the drums pound, a weird majestic smoldering blackened post doom perhaps, turning into some classic metal, emotional minor key leads over true doom dirge, while black metal guitars swirl ominously in the background like black storm clouds on the horizon, a fantastically tense opener, that finally does explode into some frantic furious black chaos, and we're in total avant black heaven, the sound definitely situating itself somewhere amidst the black pantheon of Deathspell Omega / Katharsis / Funeral Mist / Necros Christos / Teitanblood, you get the picture, the riffs are slipper and gnarled, the drumming is inhuman and frenzied, the vocal a hellish howled belch, everything wreathed in frozen haunted atmospheres, the tracks rife with classic metal riffing, all manner of strange sounds, hysterical shrieks, bizarre samples, disembodied voices, machine-like clatter, but it's all blurred into a heaving wall of epic black crush, with a production that's MASSIVE and makes everything sound so utterly epic and punishing, but beyond the sound, the songs are incredible, the riffs some of the best we've heard, the sort of riffs you'll find yourself humming days later, the songs laced with melancholy melodies and twisted leads, wild psychedelic squalls that add a whole new dimension to the black buzz. Just listen to the sample for "Grey Light Sibling", pretty much everything we could want... and that main riff, holy shit, the strange soaring transcendental trill, the intense mournful melody, the super distorted almost industrial drum pound, we find it difficult to not just listen to that track over and over...
Definite contender for black metal record of the year (even though technically it came out last year), and some super sweet packaging.
Latest batch of psychedelic sludge from this Chicago crew, their second album, but the first we've actually heard from these guys, and we have to say, we're digging this quite a bit. There seems to be something going on in Chicago, or something in the water as they say, with bands getting way weirder and more tripped out and psychedelic, the most obvious recent example has to be Nachtmystium's shift from grim blackness, to hazy black psych, similarly, we always thought these guys were much more doomy and sludgey and crusty, and perhaps at one point they were, but now they're conjuring something up much more in the spirit of groups like Kylesa or Rwake or other bands who have augmented their buzz and pound and howl with something much more experimental, melodic and psychedelic.
The Atlas Moth lay the foundation with big, downtuned riffs, a little stonery, way sludgey, plenty of classic metal going on too, the vibe very much like a smoldering post rockier Neurosis, but the riffs are spread out into strangely proggy arrangements, the band taking full advantage of their THREE guitar lineup with twisted serpentine harmonies that wrap themselves around everything. And the vocals are more like black metal shrieks, heavily effected vokills, that could sound out of place, but instead add a different element to the proceedings, but there's also lots of keyboards, some dramatic crooned clean vocals, even some trumpets, all woven into a sound that's epic and majestic, psychedelic and heavy, songs that unfurl gradually and slowly suck you in, not blasting or pounding or buzzing so much, but more sort of spaced out, and darkly dreamy, moody midtempo dirges that are totally mesmerizing.
Super striking Jesus Lizard Goat style artwork, with all manner of strange images projected onto a naked woman, like the music, very psychedelic.
Rabid punk obsessives and collectors are probably already familiar with this eighties Stockton punk rock band, having been featured on the legendary first volume of the Killed By Death series and having released an almost 'classic' single called "I Hate Cops" (of course), and we have to admit, when we first got this reissue in, we immediately recognized the iconic cover photo, with a big dog licking the face of a policeman, but we have never actually heard them until now. Turns out, "I Hate Cops" is a killer jam, with the guitar simulating the siren at the beginning, and a wicked anthemic chorus (and don't let that first line throw you off, they say that all cops are "piggers"). The flipside "Radiationmasturbation" is pretty awesome too with some of thee most ridiculous lyrics ever. Poppy and hooky, punk as fuck, killer riffs, some wild shredding lead guitars, a killer vocalist, and some seriously kick ass songs, hard to believe these guys managed to stay so far under the radar for so long. This comp collects pretty much everything the group ever recorded, 14 songs, 22 minutes, all of it ruling!
Includes a big booklet with lyrics and liner notes.
Latest from musical polymath Aidan Baker, and by now, long time readers of the aQ list should be well aware of the scope of Baker's musical vision, solo, it ranges from deep drones to shimmery abstract jazz to hushed minimal ambience, and of course in his duo Nadja, the sound shifts from crushing slo-mo dreamgaze doom to lumbering metallic crush, with plenty of forays into more abstract minimalism. From what we'd read about this record, supposedly it found Baker expanding his seemingly boundary-free sound once again, by trying his hand at a sort of post rock, or more specifically, harnessing his incredible soundscaping skills into a slightly more song based form.
There does seem to be a bit more structure, but really, it's only a bit, the songs here drift and shimmer, sprawl and drift, most anchored by a minimal skeletal rhythm, but even then, the sound isn't rhythmic as much as atmospheric. The rhythm exists more as a pulse, adding to the texture more than the propulsion, at its MOST rhythmic, it adds a sort of looped mesmer, regardless, it seems that Baker can do no wrong, cuz this is a gorgeous chunk of ethereal drift.
The opening prelude is a lush, gauzy bit of piano flecked Jeck-like thrum, a warm, whirling soft focus abstract ballad, and it's yet another number that we would have been perfectly happy to see fill up the whole rest of the cd, but it is titled "Prelude" for a reason, and introduces us to the gorgeous soundworld that is Lost In The Rat Maze. We kind of expected the record to launch into something much more rocking, especially with all the talk of 'post rock', but instead, the title track unfurls dreamily like some Philip Jeck / Necks mash up, minimal and cyclical, the rhythm here more skittery and WAY abstract, wordless vocals drifting in the cloudy fuzzy mix, a definite looped feel too, the sound lush and layered, a little jazzy, but more than anything mesmerizingly dreamlike, even when guitars (recognizable ones at least) come in, they simple hover and shimmer, and add another layer of sound. And this track too, like the rest of them, could easily have been stretched out into their very own full lengths. In fact, there may not be better praise for this record than just that, the fact that this almost sounds like a collection of edits, it's not hard at all to imagine each of these tracks being their own fully contained album, but here, they're all woven into a single songsuite, the songs bleeding into one another, following an ethereal dreammusic arc, the sound shifting ever so subtly from hushed shimmer, to soft rhythmic churn and back again, all the while bathed in a haze of warm sonic hum, which gives the whole record that sort of washed out otherworldly sound we can't seem to ever get enough of. Feels foolish to proclaim every new Baker record our favorite, but we're digging this one about as much as his recent Still Life, which is saying A LOT.
Another 'witch house' luminary gets their first proper (non cd-r or download) release in the form of this gorgeous 5 song ep. For those who have somehow missed out on the whole witch house thing, it's sort of hard to describe, a new self proclaimed genre that seems to mix electronic music with dark creepy samples, everything slowed down and murky and witchy, ethereal vocals, distorted production, there's already a serious backlash because of the ridiculous witch house hype, which is pretty funny, considering probably all but the very hippest folks have barely even heard any witch house.
We reviewed the debut 12" from oOoOO a few lists back (all the witch house bands tend to have names that borrow heavily from the zapf dingbats font and the special keys on your keyboard), a fantastically dreamy chunk of electronic ghostly minimal dream pop, we also made Salem's King Night our Record of the Week, with its bombastic shoegaze bliss meets chopped and screwed Southern style crunk, but Balam Acab definitely tends toward the former, the two part title track a fuzzy, almost dubsteppy bit of gently glitchy gauziness, angelic vocals, wreathed in reverb, drifting over swirling industrial loops and shimmering synths, the second part totally blissed out and otherworldly, the beats spare and skeletal, the vocals floating on clouds of whirling effects and blurred melody, while in between, basslines buzz ominously, beats careen in slow motion, voices loop and hover, melodies fragment and drift apart, the sound like some eighties MTV pop slowed way down and dipped in drugs and left in the afternoon sun to warm, fuzzy streaks of sound wrapped around stuttery glacial beats, "Big Boy" offering up a hook on par with "See Birds", while "Dream Out" sounds like a warped Kate Bush record playing at 16rpm, while kids play video games in the next room.
Awesome stuff. And we could care less really if the hipster intelligentsia has decided witch house is dead, cuz we're definitely dying to hear more...
Most folks probably no Mick Barr as the guitarist for black metal outfit Krallice, but long before Krallice, Barr was making seriously difficult music in the duos Crom-Tech and Orthrelm, as well as making equally difficult music solo as Ocrilim and Octis, and how you feel about those other Barr projects will definitely affect how you feel about this new solo lp. We've seen it described in different places as "genius", and as "difficult" and as "totally unlistenable", and well, we're inclined to say all three might apply depending on how you feel about Barr and his shredding. Since that's essentially what this is, two side long solo guitar shreds. Guitar nerds will be in heaven, as will avant outsider music weirdos, Barr is sort of a genius, wild trills and insane lightning fast runs, tripped out chords and bizarre sounds, in its own way, it's kind of hypnotic, we find ourselves getting a little lost whenever we put it on. But for folks who are after songs, or specifically want METAL, or are expecting Krallice, well, you'll be very very disappointed. Actually, all the folks who bought that triple lp on Rock Is Hell, this might hit that same weirdo difficult guitar music spot. You have been warned, weak eared posers steer clear!
Comes in a heavy matte finish jacket with some super creepy artwork, and includes a super swank embossed poster featuring some of Barr's distinctive artwork.
Maurizio Bianchi is one of the pioneers of Italian industrial culture, with a single-minded, visionary bleakness that inspired hordes of death-obsessed noise technicians from the '80s onward. He recorded at a frenzied pace from the late '70s until 1984, when he ceremoniously quit making music with numerous stories surrounding his self-imposed retirement. Yet, he slowly began to tinker with electronics in the mid-'90s and gradually returned to a similarly manic pace which once again came to a screeching halt in 2010. Despite this current work stoppage of Bianchi's new recordings, there's still plenty of material which has not been reissued (or may not have been released at all for that matter!). Industrial Murder / Menstrual Bleeding is an album whose recordings date back to 1982, but didn't get released until 1992 when Banned Productions released the album on vinyl. Of course, that quickly went out of print, and that will probably be the fate of this cd edition as well. Not much of Bianchi's best work stays around for long.
1982 found Bianchi cycling through an ongoing variation on a theme, which began with Symphony For A Genocide and came to a conclusion with Das Testament. Self-described as 'decompositions,' Bianchi was pretty much an improviser on drum machine, distortion pedals, turntable, and synths, creating a demonic noise which sprawled above the mutable rhythms which slipped out of militant lock-step grinding into asynchronous pulses, all the while scraped and smothered with scabrous noises, atonal dive-bombing gestures, and sickening vibrations. His weird morphing of sound and rhythm really set him apart from pretty much all of the other industrialists who fashioned their work through the act controlling noise and chaos with plenty of abject and transgressive signifiers floating around. Industrial Murder / Menstrual Bleeding is an adaptation of the same themes you would hear on those aforementioned albums, with all of the noxious rhythmic meanderings, Frankensteinian melodic plodding, and sea-sickening accelerations of synth noise that's commonplace amongst these Bianchi recordings.
Limited to 300 copies.
Some collaborations find a way to strike a balance between two strong aesthetics, and others resolve themselves with one aesthetic absorbing the other. Maurizio Bianchi has been a force to be reckoned with in recent years, thanks to his return to powerful, cold electronics featured on an avalanche of recent releases; yet, it's a little difficult to discern where he is on The House Of Mourning. Ostensibly, this is his collaboration with the German industrial project Telepherique; and from the sounds of the album, it's Telepherique who clearly are in the driver's seat. The looping MIDI-synth electronics, the life-support system rhythms, and the heavy use of sampled Arabic media lend themselves towards the realms of Cabaret Voltaire and Muslimgauze; and it's hardly the all consuming swarm of Bianchi drone that we've come to expect. That said, Telepherique's industrialist klank and threatening atmospheres are well articulated and quite pleasing in their own right. Limited to 500 copies, and supposedly out of print by now.
Big Troubles' recent Sad Girls 7", reviewed on our previous list, marked a big sonic change for this aQ beloved weirdo pop combo, one that we were loathe to embrace. Our experience is that typically, when bands 'mature' and their sound changes, becoming less weird and less idiosyncratic, in most cases the band also essentially becomes less GOOD. So we feared the worst, word was Big Troubles had shed much of their warped quirkiness and were headed for jangle pop central with an about to pop new album on Slumberland. But we need to fear anything, cuz while we may lament the band's old sound, much of the pop core, that made them so awesome in the first place, still remains, just cleaned up a little. And as they say, these boys sure do clean up nice.
And the new Big Troubles are a perfect fit for Slumberland, a dreamy mix of modern fuzz pop and classic nineties indiepop jangle, the A side of the aforementioned single is here, and as we descirbed it before, it "sounds like a classic slab of nineties Britpop, all big soaring fuzzy guitars, hazy dreamy vocals, shimmery, glimmering and hooky as all get out, a huge hit in a perfect world, but since this is not, it will remain an underground perfect pop gem." Which really applies to most of the record. While "Sad Girls" might be the obvious single, opener "She Smiles For Pictures" is a close second, with its cool quirky main riff, its sweetly melancholy melody, warm muted jangle and the lush dreamy vox that slip easily into a soaring falsetto, there's even a couple brief squalls of psychedelic noisiness, but they are brief and deftly woven into the group's perfect pop. And pretty much perfect is what it is, any one into other Slumberland bands who maybe found Big Troubles too weird, just might find themselves with an unlikely new favorite band.
We've been listening to this non stop (along with Slumberland's Veronica Falls record, also reviewed on this week's list), and we can't stop listening to either, total pop heaven bliss!
Rhode Island avant doom duo The Body just swung through town, with their pals in Braveyoung in tow, the two groups touring as a single unit, the increased firepower of this newly formed two headed beast harnessing some serious black energy. And for those who were unable to witness said energy in the flesh, comes this, an audial document of the collaboration, and while we'd never heard Braveyoung before, the resulting sonic onslaught speaks to the two groups' compatibility, the result a sprawling blackened soft cacophony, a series of surprisingly melodic and impossibly lush blackened doomscapes replete with a choir (the very same choir from The Body's epic All The Waters Of The Earth Turn To Blood), and an unlikely cover of a song by sixties voodoo groovers Exuma!!
The opening track explodes with black gouts of crumbling low end, murky blurred riffage, and churning black hole crush, but as the song unfolds, all manner of melodic subtleties blossom, what sounds like soaring strings, muted tangled melodies, moaning low end rumbles, the buzz and crunch peeling way right at the end revealing the swirl of melodies that lurked underneath all along.
The factually titled "Song Two" seems to be the centerpiece, a massive epic clocking in at 15+ minutes, a brooding slow build, long droning tones over a bed of hiss and crackle, the sound quickly growing more melodic, laced with deep throaty cello, tinkling chimes, and lush female vocal harmonies, the sound downright liturgical, hints of Godspeed and other brooding post rockers, eventually the drums kick in, the guitars begin to buzz, and the song is transformed into a fantastic dirge, peppered with long stretches of crumbling low end, keening guitar tones, more ethereal voices, finally building to a massive coda, the drums cranked WAY up in the mix, the guitars too, the sound so in-the-red, you can almost hear all the meters peaking, everything wreathed in clouds of feedback, until finally disappearing in a haze of crumbling buzz.
The title track is the prettiest of the bunch, the two groups laying down a thick fog of blackdrone and hiss drenched rumble, muted streaks of feedback, all blurred into one heaving undulating stretch of corrosive low end, while over the top, Christmas carol like melodies drift and shimmer, the crystalline tones hovering weightless above the black sonic chasm below.
And then finally, the band finish off with their Exuma cover, trading the over-the-top swamp shaman vocals of the original with some gorgeous folky female vox, transforming the sound into a weird sort of dirgey atmospheric doom folk, the sound woozy and warm, washed out and dreamy, the main vox backed up by the lush harmonies of the choir, while The Body and Brave Young, wrap everything in a thick coruscating black haze, a blackened background that more than anything, adds a bit of dreamily sinister texture to the proceedings.
Fantastic stuff, and well worth experiencing live too if you get the chance...
If you're a regular reader of the AQ list, by now you know all about Bow Wow, those exuberant Japanese heavy metal rock 'n' rollers. Part poppy bubblegum boogie glam, part classic '70s hard rockin' (a la Rainbow, Sabbath, Scorpions, Aerosmith), part heavy Hendrix-inspired psych... and most of all, young, energetic, and talented; their newfangled metallisms corresponding to Western contemporaries Van Halen in foreshadowing the '80s metal explosion.
Previously, over the past year or so, we've reviewed three of the four '70s Bow Wow reissues done by the UK's Rock Candy label: 1976's self-titled debut, 1977's Signal Fire, and Charge, also from '77. Now at last we wrap up this Bow Wow series with number four, Super Live from 1978. As the title implies, it's a live album. And let's just say, Bow Wow were indeed a super live band, pulling out all the stops here in front of a rabid, screaming Japanese audience ("the cheering of the young girls you hear brings back very fond memories," Bow Wow's guitar whiz Kyoji Yamamoto is quoted as saying in the cd booklet). There's 10 tracks here, featuring mostly but not entirely songs from their studio efforts up to that point, good rockin' picks like "Jet Jive" and "Get On Our Train", often embellished upon and expanded a bit in the live context. Yes, there's a drum solo (about halfway through the lengthy wailin' instrumental "Explosion"). And for their big finale, they do a raucous cover of "Summertime Blues"!
We reviewed this last because it's chronologically the last of the reissues, also 'cause we figured folks would want the studio albums first... but, on the other hand, if you haven't yet picked up any of the Bow Wow reissues and wanted just ONE to get into the Bow Wow experience, this would be a good choice for sure, kind of a greatest hits that also highlights this band's forte, that being the sheer energy and excitement of 'em performance-wise, which is quite commanding.
Once again, a nicely done reissue, remastered, with detailed, illustrated liner notes in the cd booklet.
Here's hoping that Rock Candy will next get the rights to reissue some of Bow Wow's best stuff from the '80s, like Asian Volcano and Warning From Stardust...
If you know who Corky Carroll is, it's 'cause chances are, you're into surfing. But besides being one of the top champion pro surfers of his era ('60s/early '70s), and in fact considered possibly the first ever professional surfer, he was also way into music. In 1971, at age 23, he released this album, his first of many, on a private label called Rural that he ran with Dennis Dragon (of the Dragons and later of the Surf Punks, and brother to Darryl, aka Captain of the Captain and Tennille). Corky and Dennis brought mobile recording gear with them to visit fellow surfers/musicians all along the California coast, that's where the "& Friends" comes in, as this, in addition to Corky's own guitar strum, features contributions from a variety of fine musicians, including some exquisite Hawaiian slack-key guitar picking by island-born board-crafter Raymond Patterson. Also appearing: Denny Aarberg (lead guitarist from the Santa Barbara hippy-surf band Farm, also later co-writer of the John Milius surf film Big Wednesday), David Lyons, Al Oakie, Kathy Dragon, and the members of the band Hana. All of these people were serious surfers like Corky, though the music they made doesn't sound like your typical "surf music" (though it is warm and beach-ily idyllic).
Mellow, folky, mostly acoustic, largely instrumental, a little bit bluesy in spots, of course this would get reissued by Japan's wonderful EM Records, who have previously brought us a bunch of "psychedelic surf" albums in the past, in their "EM Under Water Series", like the Farm's soundtrack to The Innermost Limits Of Pure Fun.
Certainly this is aptly titled, Laid Back, being so sunshiney and stoned, what what some folks here, who (ahem) know what they're talking about, would consider a perfect "wake 'n' bake" album, that you could file with David Crosby's If I Can Only Remember My Name ferinstance.
Anyone who liked the These Trails album Drag City recently reissued and wants another trip to the islands in their imagination, should check this out!
Packaged in the usual EM cardboard gatefold sleeve, the insert bearing interesting liner notes from Corky himself. Pricier vinyl version also available, fyi.
NOW ON VINYL!!
We got our first taste of this NY black metal horde on their Stones/Salt 7" from last year, a two song blowout of angular frenzied riffage, gnarled metallic crush, blasting beats, a distinctly weird take on black metal, one that owed as much to noise rock as it did to classic BM. And on this, their debut full length, that noise rock influence becomes even more evident, and makes Mounds Of Ash so much more than a run of the mill black metal record.
In fact, this sounds like the sort of record that could have existed outside of black metal entirely, sure there's insectoid riffing, and some blasting beats, and some soaring epic melodies, but hell, that stuff all existed in some form before black metal.
To these ears, this sounds like some noise rock metal core band from the nineties, super charged and a bit blackened, the more obviously black metal parts are separated by long stretches of loping moody post rock grooves, are churning, chugging almost metalcore heaviness. We've seen folks throwing out comparisons to legendary metal outfit Deadguy, and this does indeed sound a but like a black metal Deadguy, or maybe Kiss It Goodbye, which is for sure a good thing. There's also plenty of Neurosis going on, thick swells of roiling moody metallic bombast, a sort of metallic post rock slow burn that often builds into a flurry of frantic thrashing, but just as often sprawls into something more tripped out and psychedelic.
In fact, the more we listen to Mounds Of Ash, the LESS black metal it sounds, the production seems like the most black metal part, the music though, is just so dense and weirdly melodic, and crushingly epic, with swaths of woozy minor key weirdness, and killer harmonics laced brooding breakdowns that sound like a WAY heavier Slint or Bastro, which is about the raddest thing we can think of, and which is pretty much exactly what this is. Heavy, washed out, fucked up, a little bit black, way melodic, post-noise rock avant dirge metal, whatever you want to call it, this just might be our new favorite slab of grim and gorgeous avant heaviness...
The return of our favorite crew of psychedelic hypno krautrock worshippers, with another disc of cyclical, spaced out mesmer, a heady blend of Circle style single riff mantra-rock, classic krautrock stylings and modern minimal psychedelia, all woven into a sound that while reminiscent of much of what came before has definitely been fashioned over the last few records into something distinctly Cave-like.
We were actually immediately struck by how 'clean' this new record sound. Polished, produced, whatever you want to call it, these guys have come a long way from their ramshackle DIY beginnings, opener "WUJ" might be the best Cave jam yet, sounding at the outset almost like Stereolab, that same sort of clipped guitars, measured minimal drumming, all amidst soft swirls of faded effects and synthy shimmer, but the band add all sorts of killer melodies, and extra parts, the song overflowing with hooks, slipping from that chugging propulsive churn, to full on soaring pop majesty and back again. The song does eventually crank things up, the guitars distorted, the bass thick and driving, synths everywhere (maybe dragged over to Cave from frontman Cooper Crain's Bitchin Bajas side project) adding a sort of sun dappled new age shimmer, but the final chunk of the song is raw and urgent, the sound getting way more blown out and distorted, totally in-the-red, wild squalls of psychedelic leads, definitely slipping into White Hills, Heads, Hawkwind style heart of the sun space rock territory. The second track "This Is The Best" offers up the other side of Cave, a sprawling chunk of mellow krautrock rhythms, and hazy smoldering synth drones, sounding like some lost Faust jam (maybe from those sessions with Tony Conrad) or maybe Tortoise at their most abstract and tripped out. The Bitchin Bajas vibe is huge here too, when the synths swoop in, they spread out a skyful of kosmische thrum over that motorik beat, and the low slung bass line, which relentlessly drives the track, but c'mon, this is Cave, so about 4 minutes in, the song splinters and transforms into something else entirely, another chugging guitar heavy groove, this one cranking the tempo way up, easy to imagine the live shows, this must be where the crowd starts bouncing wildly and going nuts, cuz even listening to it on record, it's hard to resist the urge. The song explodes in a wild psychedelic climax, before winding down (for about 5 minutes), with a killer drum / synth mathkraut workout, that is one of the coolest jams we've ever heard.
And on it goes, the band unfurling epic swaths of looped rhythms, of swirling distorted keyboards, crunchy riffs, pounding drums, all woven into long stretches of hypno kraut bliss, culminating in the closer, "OJ", which almost sounds like a Moon Duo track gone haywire, the bass blown out and crumbling, the synths wildly fluctuating, all of the sounds swirling and shifting, while that main rhythm/groove remains locked tight, and the band chug and churn to the very end, finishing off in a blaze of twisted FX-ed psychguitar swirl.
Needless to say, this rules, and is absolutely essential listening!
"Live reunion album" aren't three words (in sequence) that we normally get too excited about. But when the band is the legendary British pagan acid folk rock act Comus, who are responsible for having made one of our very favorite albums of ALL TIME (their 1971 debut on Dawn, First Utterance), one that Andee here in fact ranks as his absolute favorite record ever, well, that's another story.
With their cult following growing and growing over the years (with big fans like Opeth and Current 93 helping to keep their name out there), Comus finally reunited to play the Melloboat Festival in Sweden in 2008, and at the time we seriously considered buying plane tickets to fly over and attend. They've done some more gigging since, and Allan was in fact lucky enough to get to see 'em at last year's Roadburn festival. He can attest to them being pretty darn incredible, it's hard to imagine that their younger selves could have done much better of a job, though they might have looked the part of pixies and freaks a bit more - not everyone in the band still has long hair these days, though some of 'em do, and actually their female singer Bobbie Watson looked like she practically hadn't aged at all, still a bewitching blonde beauty, with a lovely lovely voice... and they really, really were enjoying themselves. As they obviously were at this historic Melloboat gig as well, and sounding fantastic especially considering it was the first time they'd played together in 34 years!!!
We've heard a bit of this recording already, the song "Diana" from their Melloboat performance appeared on a limited edition split 7" we listed a while back, and we noted that it sounded perhaps "even more woozy and carnivalesque and maniacal than they did back in the day". They definitely nailed it, maybe it's some pagan magic, 'cause remember, Comus is the ancient god of revelry, and he wasn't gonna let anybody on that boat down.
While it's not the same as having actually been there, of course, we figure some diehard Comus fans are gonna be curious to hear this. Especially since it includes, in addition to renditions of five of the seven songs from their debut, a cover of "Venus In Furs" by the Velvet Underground! A song we guess they also did back the '70s, the VU being an influence on them that we wouldn't have considered, but it totally fits, creepy and catchy, with sawing violin, sounding like something that they could have written themselves for inclusion on First Utterance.
The full tracklist: "Song To Comus", "Diana", "The Herald", "Drip Drip", "The Prisoner", "Venus In Furs", "Song To Comus (encore)". That's right, they did "Song To Comus" twice, but omitted two other songs from First Utterance, "The Bite" and "Bitten", oh well. At least they didn't do a bunch of stuff from their not-so-critically-acclaimed second album... You can decide for yourself if you want to hear this, or just stick with the mystical original, some folks (including some of us) may prefer to leave live Comus to the incomparable realm of our own imaginations, where they have long dwelt...
Released on a new imprint co-run by C93's David Tibet, this cd includes photos, lyrics and liner notes in the booklet.
It all started with a joke, a dumb joke, but a pretty funny one nonetheless. you'd have to be living under a rock to have not heard Das Racist's internet/mixtape hit "Combination Pizza Hut And Taco Bell", which was essentially a simple looped beat, with the group rapping "We at the Pizza Hut, we at the Taco Bell, we at the combination Pizza Hut And Taco Bell" over and over and over. After millions of downloads/listens, as well as a couple of killer free mixtapes, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world got hip to what the world of blogs had been freaking out over for ages.
And you know what, often the hype turns out to be just that, but in the case of Das Racist, they sorta deserve it. Alongside the stupid silly sense of humor, these guys have skills, wicked flows, hilarious / ridiculous / super smart lyrics, and they put together some killer jams, the hype is sorta too bad, cuz inevitably hipsters worldwide will decide these guys suck, now that they're getting some mainstream popularity, which is a shame, but what can you do, that seems to be the way (talking to you witch house). But fuck it. Check out "Michael Jackson" and see if you can resist, a wicked skittery beat, and a killer Bollywood loop, some amazing lines, including the goofy line delivered so dramatically: "I'm fucking great at raaaaaaapping!!!" (That's rapping, not raping, btw, don't want anyone to get the wrong idea.) Or "Rainbow In The Dark", with another irresistible loop, and more ridiculous, and ridiculously good lines, including references to Jeff Mangum, Kool G Rap, Donkey Kong, Schlomo, Pocky candies, and more whatthefuckness. Falling somewhere between Antipop Consortium and Odd Future, smart and surreal, this shit rules, popular or not. Check it out. Haters be damned.
Only got three of these, found a little stash in the closet, pretty sure we won't be able to get more so grab one of these quick if you're into twisted Ukrainian black metal. And really how could you not be. The Ukraine has a small but killer scene that's given us bands like Drudkh, Nokturnal Mortum, Astrofaes, Hate Forest, Khors, Shadows Ground and Blood Of Kingu. And weirdly enough, Definition Sane features the drummer of BoK, but their sound is a whole different beast. This comp collects the group's two demos, the sound murky and moody, buzzy and black, melding depressive and ambient elements with more classic buzz and blast, and there's a definite technical death metal element too (they even cover Deicide!), but at its core, it's a fantastically twisted blackness, not sure whether it's the composition or the recording, but the sound is warped and warbly, with the sound constantly shifting into weirdly atonal and angular parts that make the sound more ugly and damaged and 'difficult' than most black metal. It also gives the sound a sort of 'avant' vibe, which when coupled with the overall grim sound, makes for something pretty ruling.
Again, we only have three of these, and once they're gone, that's it...
We were crazy obsessed with last year's debut record from these guys, due in no small part to the track "Let's Go Surfing", which had to be the jam of 2010, to quote our review, "with its whistled melody, its sped up Joy Division bassline, clipped simple drumming, Smiths guitar jangle, handclaps(!), vocal harmonies, fuzzy synth bits and an absolutely KILLER summery sunshiney chorus." Also in that same review we described these guys as sounding like "some mix of Echo And The Bunnymen, the Cure, the Boo Radleys and Surfer Blood". That whole record was a dreamy collection of new wave jangle and sunshiney surf pop, and were really hoping for more of the same with Portamento, and we were not at all disappointed. Everything we loved about that record is present and accounted for, tons of jangle, a little gloom pop, dreamy vocals, lush harmonies, impossibly irresistible hooks. If anything, this new record seems a bit more understated, the sound more muted and minimal, the hooks more subtle, but the sort of subtle hooks that become less and less subtle with every listen, opener "Book Of Revelation" sounds like someone threw Animal Collective along with the above mentioned bands into a blender, and took the resulting sonic stew and let it steep in the warm summer sun. The record unfolds like some sort of new wave new romantic daydream, laced with lots of 'oooh's and 'aaah's, loads of jangle and swirl, all anchored by more of those sped up Joy Division basslines, at times sounding almost like a sunshine pop version of Interpol, but most often sounding like some lost eighties new wave combo transported here from the past, set up in a modern studio, and left to make a modern new wave classic, that sounds strangely as if it too was plucked from the past.
Along with a new Cloak Of Displacement cd-r, reviewed elsewhere on this week's list, the maniac behind CoD has also dug up this weird bit of looped, hypnotic psychedelic blackness, all the way from Estonia! Edasi weaves a high concept, 74 minute sprawl of haunting, noise drenched drift. The label describes it as sounding like a bar fight between Silvester Anfang and Havohej, and we have to say that's not really all that far off. In the beginning, it does sound like some ritualistic bit of forest folk ambience, distorted steel string buzz, muted electronics, simple percussion, processed demonic vox, it's tripped out and tweaked, the blackness more implied, the whole thing rife with a seriously ominous vibe, but musically, this could just as likely be some strange lo-fi free noise collective from Finland, or some bedroom doom folk one man band from the midwest.
It's a smoldering, creeping expanse of skittery ambience, of chiming melodies, streaks of feedback, the whole thing tethered to a strange propulsive glitch and crunch, managing to be weirdly tranced out and tranquil, yet, fucked up and seriously demented at the same time. Way too far removed from 'proper' black metal to appeal to the typical metalheads, but fans of Cloak Of Displacement, as well as the weirder fringes of black metal, a la Circle Of Ouroborus, Dead Reptile Shrine, Stalaggh, and the like, as well as anyone into warped outsider sounds, will definitely dig this a LOT.
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES, each one hand numbered, comes with a printed insert detailing the genesis of this particular chunk of sonic weirdness, as well as a miniature reproduction of the bizarre painting that spawned these sound.
Best death metal album of all time? There sure are some runners up. Morbid Angel's Covenant? Deicide's Deicide? Carcass' Necroticism: Descanting the Insalubrious? They're all fucking brilliant, but let's not forget Edge of Sanity's phenomenal, ground breaking, and completely bizarre third album, Spectral Sorrows from 1993. Not only does it have some of the heaviest riffs of all time, not only does it feature signature production work from the band's legendary vocalist/multi-instrumentalist/mastermind Dan Swano (also of Pan.Thy.Monium, Bloodbath, and a million other projects), and not only does it stand up as one of the least dated death metal albums ever. It can also claim to have killer prog moments and a dark wave/goth track ("Sacrificed"). Oh, also a triumphant cover of Manowar's galloping "Blood of My Enemies."
This is Edge of Sanity before their famed single track 40+ minute long epic-journey opus Crimson (1996), and way before their rad Led Zeppelin-esque swan song Cryptic (which stands in opposition to the rest of their catalog as it does NOT feature Swano). If any of those points fail to sell you on this record, it's probably not for you. But if you're like us yet haven't heard it, then you're in for a treat. For fans of death metal, black metal, or any other conceivably heavy music, you absolutely need this. Best death metal record ever? Who can say. Probably biggest-death-metal-head-at-AQ Cameron's favorite. Honestly, no possible combination of superlatives could express exactly how vital this is. Necessary. Essential. Brutal. Recommended. Do yourself a favor...
Seems like no matter what, there's always some obscure gem left out there to be dug up and reissued, you've never heard it all. Here's the latest example, a reissue of a 1976 album with a promising title and equally alluring cover art. Electronic Mind Waves by Italy's mysterious Elektrikus (aka one Andrea Centazzo) is indeed pretty awesome, as a lone offering naturally touching on both the traditions of Italian prog and Germanic "kosmische" electronics, especially heavily influenced it would seem by the latter.
While over the years Centazzo has apparently made other albums, of improvised avant-garde jazz, collaborating with the likes of Steve Lacy, Evan Parker, Derek Bailey, and ROVA, under his one-off Elektrikus guise (as might be expected) he concentrated on synthesizer-based keyboard music, creating hypnotic (and sometimes haunting) electro-acoustic soundscapes of abstract droning synths and sequencer patterns, also employing tinkling bells, tape effects, and on one track, upright bass.
There's eight tracks here, 38 minutes of his shimmering, ringing, burbling sounds that wouldn't sound out of place on the score to some strange sci-fi flick. Fans of Tangerine Dream, Conrad Schnitzler and Klaus Schulze should definitely check this out... For an Italian comparison, maybe some Franco Battiato? It also reminds us of a variety of more current underground acts, at moments like Vibracathedra Orchestra, or Kemialliset Ystavat, or something on Spectrum Spools, perhaps!
Kinda disappointed that this turned out to be a cd-r, though. We thought it was a real cd at first, it's in a jewel case and totally pro-printed with color artwork and all. Not sure why they didn't make it a real cd (and it's NOT a bootleg, Ictus is Centazzo's own label, started in the '70s and reactivated recently). Oh well, still neat to have!
Peregrine falcons are impressive birds of prey that can be found in almost every ecosystem, known for their extreme speeds in flight sometimes reaching over 200 miles per hour. Being quite adaptable, they are often found in urban areas where the pigeons are plentiful; and it can be quite spectacular to see these birds streaking through the skyscrapers of San Francisco reducing the pigeon population one at time with a precision that's the envy of any military campaign. The Australian ambient-laced sound artist Lawrence English came to his appreciation of the Peregrine by way of a book of the same title by J.A. Baker who obsessively mapped the daily activities of a pair of peregrines in England with a purported magical lyricism in his writings. English's ornithological portrait is all about flight and soaring - it's unclear whether English took after Baker by seeking out these birds on his own or if English's work is solely articulated through the lens of Baker's prose. But, English has long been able to express a poetic simplicity through the fog of sound; and he's proved once again how deft he can be. Smeared synth drones and grey-tone ambience streams through each of English's tracks, with subtle melodic interludes of low-end bass tones girding the compositions, coming across as something between Popul Vuh and Tim Hecker. A beautiful record for sure, and one that captures a sublime element of the majesty of the nimble falcon. Limited to 500 copies and comes with a download card.
Flower Travellin' Band mania has gripped Byram and Allan and others of us here at AQ. After the success of our review of the reissues of their masterpiece Satori and their debut Anywhere, we feel we ought to keep going through the catalog of this stellar '70s Japanese heavy psych rock outfit. Those who couldn't get enough of FTB's Satori will be pleased to know that their follow-up, third release Made In Japan is nearly every bit as good. Singer Joe's voice still rings in the creepy falsetto style like Alan Bishop of the Sun City Girls singing balls out heavy metal vocals. As with their previous album, "Made In Japan" continued to fuse the heavy rock of early (contemporary, to them) Sabbath with Eastern melodies. I guess they decided after their perfect rendition of "Black Sabbath" on their first record, that such was their calling. Then again, "Heaven And Hell", the penultimate track here, is as pure a channeling of Jimi Hendrix as anything. The mellow closing track "That's All", with its koto glissandi, parallels "Part V" on Satori and like that track, it's perhaps the most overtly Eastern in tone. But it's Joe's vocal line that really kicks ass. At the end of the chorus he adds a little cadenza to his howl, extending the vocal line just beyond where one's intuitively expecting a cadence. It works so fucking well, makes me stop whatever I'm doing to listen, that I wonder why more song writers don't pull that shit more often.
It's taken us a while to get enough of these in to list, but it was well worth the wait, the debut full length from this Bay Area metal crust thrash outfit which features our pal Josh Smith, formerly of legendary SF black metal horde Weakling as well as the Fucking Champs and garage popsters the Makes Nice, as well as members of Face Down In Shit and Look Back And Laugh. The label has this to say about Futur Skullz: "They wish they sounded like Anti Cimex crossed with Whiplash, but in reality they probably sound more like Bad Brains and Metallica.", which we're guessing is a (not so?) humble way of saying they sort of sound like all of those. The Metallica thing is big for sure, but we're talking Kill Em All of course, the same sort of classic thrash riffing, plenty of chug, and some surprising hookiness, but the crust element is pretty huge too, which ultimately might eclipse their metal side. Are they punky metal, or metallic punk? Hardly matters really, the songs are heavy and metallic enough that most metalheads should be too busy headbanging to debate the finer subtleties, while this is definitely punk enough to hit the spot for the same folks who have been digging Acephalix, No Funeral, and the most recent spate of Southern Lord signees, all of which seems to be crust punk.
Did we mention solos? Smith gets to unleash the beast as they say, spitting off some seriously shredding solos, which definitely up the metal ante, and are Futur Skullz major selling point, but then that's all balanced by the vocals, a painful glass gargling throat shredding below that goes from gruff howl to near hysterical shriek.
Heavy as fuck and totally kick ass, and thus recommended for metalheads and punks alike.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES, vinyl only, includes a download coupon.
Egads. What's that rumbling, lumbering sound? The Gates Of Slumber, of course. The Midwestern true doom stalwarts return with their 2nd slipcased album for Rise Above/Metal Blade, at least their fourth full-length release overall. If you like your metal HEAVY then you know these guys already. Traditionalists at heart, they don't mess much with their basic modus operandi, once more this is barbaric thud that Conan himself would enjoy blasting on his stereo, if they had such technology in the ancient Hyborian Age...
Snail's pace opening track "Bastards Born" is VERY Vitus-y, the influence of '80s Sabbath disciples Saint Vitus always having been a big part of TGOS's sound, but here really taken to an extreme of emulation, it could easily be a track left off of final (for now) Vitus masterpiece Die Healing. Except that the vocals by TGOS guitarist Karl Karl Simon aren't quite so godly as those of Scott Reagers. He's a bit more "wretched" sounding (natch, this album is titled The Wretch after all) and comes closer to sounding like the other significant Vitus vocalist, Wino.
Heck we're preaching to the choir here, making references to Die Healing and Reagers and Wino... if those names mean anything to you, you probably already know if you're interested in TGOS's latest or not. In any case, we can't imagine that TGOS weren't thinking of this as their "Die Healing" song when they were writing it.
As an statement of purpose, "Bastards Born" says: "Sludge". And sludge they do, as the rest of the album oozes forth. But some tracks ooze faster. Track two "The Scourge Of Drunkenness" is one such relatively uptempo rocker... Later on "Coven Of Cain" conjures up the high spirits of the NWOBHM, while conversely "Castle Of The Devil", another mid-album number, takes things in a relaxed, almost artily atmospheric direction, a nice breather amidst the more crushing cuts.
TGOS's true doom devotion to sheer lamentation and misery is utterly fulfilled by the end of the album, with the epic - and even more epic - tracks "The Wretch" (8:18) and "Iron And Fire" (12:14) both slo-mo, sorrowfully emo trudges to leave you suicidally spent, when all's said and doomed.
Pretty darn good, though you kinda have to be in that "doomed" mood. So if we admitted that, right at the moment, we'd rather be listening to those reissues by Alaskan '80s metal band Pandemonium that we made Record(s) Of The Week, we don't think the TGOS guys would be at all offended. After all, they're nothing if not worshipful of their heavy metal forebears themselves, the cd booklets to most previous releases usually featuring Karl Simon's analysis/admissions of each song's musical inspirations (whereas here, his liner notes are all about how this time, they got more "personal" rather than "fantastic" in terms of lyrics and mood, hence titles like "The Scourge Of Drunkenness", presumably).
It's been nearly two years since we first heard the Portland, OR duo, Golden Retriever. That first cd-r release was so uber-limited that they were gone before most people had the chance to even register it. Thankfully this follow-up on Root Strata is both on vinyl and has a larger pressing, but that doesn't mean it will be around forever, so don't wait too long.
Light Cones sees the duo of Matt Carlson (one half of Bonus) and Jonthan Sielaff further expounding on their signature dynamic of modular synthesizer and bass clarinet interplay. Over two side long tracks, each about 20 minutes, the duo push the musical limitations of their essentially monophonic instruments into new forms and shapes. The beautiful ambient drift of their first release is present in long stretches, but they're buffered against darker passages of alien cathedral-ish organ swells, laserium like wave-forms, low-end whooshes and mechanoid insect-buzz swirls. The clarinet provides a clear reed tone in the mid-range that lyrically elevates the sound while keeping it just shy of a stratospheric etherealness, often descending pitches into an abyss of soft microtonal angularity. There is a sense of cosmic uplift to the work here that is not casually offered but comes only after thoughtful attentive listening through some deeply sonic twists and turns. Gorgeous stuff!
Imagine a band that sounded like a bastard mix of UK-via-Texas, multiple drummered noise rockers Shit And Shine, grinding bass and drum duo Lightning Bolt and legendary weirdo drug rock combo Butthole Surfers. Then imagine the sort of din such a band could and would kick up and mix in all manner of mangled and freaked out electronics. Finally, imagine all of that noise being conjured up essentially by a single drum kit. And thus you have UK duo Gum Takes Tooth, which is essentially a drummer, whose drums are wired up to a dizzying array of home brewed electronics and tone bent circuit boards, with a second member tweaking and fucking with the sound in real time. 43 minutes of electronic-ed drumming might not sound that appealing to some folks, but don't make the call until you get an earful of the sounds these two whip up. Sure at times it's raw and rhythmic, noisy and chaotic, but the sounds here are all over the map, from super charged This Heat style rhythmic workouts, to blasting almost grind metal like blow outs, minimal FX fueled ambient drifts, to tripped out sci-fi psychedelia, murky, meandering distorto slow-core to frenzied noise drenched prog and pretty much every conceivable stop inbetween. Add in some Merzbow style noise, a little Psychic Paramount drum heavy post rock heaviness, some world music like tribalism, and stir it all up, and voila.
Opener "Young Mustard" is a pretty good sampling of what these guys are capable of, offering up a wild frenzy of tribal drum pound, weird processed vox, swirling electronics and FX, which eventually explode into some seriously aggro Lightning Bolt style, blast beat driven, downtuned grind, only to blossom into some Six Finer Satellite like synth-drum craziness, before the whole thing devolves into a abstract stretch of minimal clatter, random bloops and bleeps, swirling electronics, all beginning a slow build, the tribal drums swooping back in, slowly goring more distorted and intense, until finally fracturing into what sounds a bit like the Ruins crossed with Man Is The Bastard, thick blown out buzz low tones, pounding drums, howled processed vox, all woven into a seriously crushing electro-dirge.
"Tankjott" is another good one, starting out with some rapid fire kick drums, some gurgly vox, some squiggly electronics, building to a lurching, stuttery groove, soon more electronics, and more of that heavy bass buzz swoop in, and it's some sort of metallic krautpsych groove, with all manner of buzzes, strange twisted vocals, electronic pulses, before exploding into another fried and buzz drenched rhythmic workout, sounding to us like a way more chaotic / noisy / electronic version of MITB offshoot Geronimo, definitely the heaviest track here, sounding almost metal, but via Hawkwind and This Heat and Melt Banana and all blurred into some impossibly mesmerizing electrometal krautgroove, WAY too short at 7+ minutes.
And in between those two tracks, plenty of hypnotic, cyclical, rhythmic noise, progged out heaviness, stuttery drum heavy buzz and psychedelic noise rock, usually all at the same time, "Strychnine Motive" probably the most traditionally song sounding, but it's really relative, while "The Earth's Mantle Colonised" takes that same sort of sound and trips it WAY out into some sort of psychedelic space rock, the vocals chopped and processed, plenty of spacey squiggles and weird chanted vocals, the whole thing still drum driven big time, "Nomad/Monad" sounds like some bastardized gamelan orchestra, or a punk rock electronic noise version of Konono No.1, all looped thumb piano like melodies, tangled up and barraged by all manner of strange sounds, and then finally, record closer "Hermaphrodite And Nourishment" which does in fact feature a member of Shit And Shine on second drum kit, and while we were expecting a super frenzied drum heavy blowout, instead, it might be the pretties song on the record, all moody and loping and melodic, laced with ringing Tibetan bowls, crooned softly distorted vocals, squalls of feedback, and the cool thing is it never really explodes or freaks out, instead, it's just gorgeously mesmerizing and hypnotic, droned out and tribal, the perfect sort of sonic come down at a record that spends much of its time at a serious musical fever pitch.
Probably one of our most exciting recent musical discoveries (thanks Jason P.!), and with every listen this record continues to confound and delight and reveal more of the weird shit that seems to constantly be going on just below the surface, and odds are if you like any/some/all of the above mentioned bands, imagine them all mashed together and distilled into some wildly and gloriously twisted hybrid, and we imagine you'll probably be as knocked out as we were.
Another mysterious sonic missive from our very own resident dronologist Jim Haynes, another excursion into the sound of decay, this time in the form of four sprawling sidelong epics, each its own self contained soundworld, culled from various field recordings, vibrating strings and other sonic errata. Recorded over the last three years, these recordings require headphones to truly explore their depth, and once strapped on, it's easy to get lost in these strange lands of decay and declines.
The A side was originally a commissioned soundtrack for a pair of films that screened at the Hauntology exhibition at the Berkeley Art Museum in 2010, and while we've yet to see either of these films, the smoldering slow moving "Ashes" does evoke a certain ontological sonic dread, the core of the sound is of course the drone, but that drone is pulled taut, and the sound seems to fray as the track progresses, shedding sonic detritus in the form of fractured melodies, strange clicks and muted buzz. At times, this begins to sound like perhaps Haynes' most overtly musical record, but that musicality is eventually picked apart, the remaining elements litter the landscape like bits of some sonic wreckage, but then the edges are smoothed, and the stray shards are reigned in, the sound is truly beautiful, whether a deep sonorous drone, or a lush layered stretch of celestial shimmer.
Named for the performance space at which the piece was debuted, "Terminal" is another sidelong soundscape, the majority of the sounds sourced from field recordings of geysers and thermal vents, the opening few minutes unfurling like a raw field recordings, playing out like some obscure scientific document, unearthed from some dusty box filed away in a warehouse, chronicling some lost expedition. The sound doesn't necessarily grow more musical, but instead, seems to blossom and display more texture, and more depth, as if more sounds were introduced and then layered or woven into one another, streaks of blurred hiss, peppered with the sound of wind on microphone or the trickle of water, the white noise of eruption balanced by the hushed murmur of calm before and after.
Side three finds Haynes exploring radioactive decay, unclear what the sound sources are, we'd like to think, that it's indeed recordings of Strontium or Uranium, the radioactivity causing the tape to warp and curdle, but in fact, it sounds more like an assemblage of intercepted short wave broadcasts, and deep bellows of bowed metal, lush chordal swells washing over strange effects, muted glitches, lush tones and surprisingly dreamy overtones, bell like chimes, chittering cricket like clicks, Geiger counter like bleeps, all blurred and smeared into a gorgeous hazy of soft focus shimmer, those clicks coalescing into an almost-rhythm, while the surrounding sounds seem to lose cohesion, the edges softening, all bleeding into one another and drifting like blackened clouds of whir and thrum.
And finally, the last movement in this crumbling sonic tetraptych is the wire recording sourced "Cold", in which Haynes captures the sympathetic buzz of wires and plays them like some sort of abstract harp, at least that's how we picture it, a huge stone room, with metal wires running across in wild tangles, Haynes at the center, wildly bowing and striking wires, creating this delicate crystalline symphony, another blurred buzzscape, that peppers the lush layered shimmer, with creaks and clatter, skitter and crunch, but those errant sounds are quickly subsumed by the warm whirls of hushed bleary drift and an unexpected eruption of caustic blown out noise, a psychedelic squall that acts as the record's coda, before the inevitable decline, the sound slipping into nothingness. Gorgeous stuff.
LIMITED TO 350 COPIES!! Housed in a luxurious full color gatefold sleeve, and pressed on nice thick black vinyl. Includes a download coupon as well.
Another blast of post-apocalyptic cold-wave inspired dark goth-pop from Horrid Red. Comprised of members of Teenage Panzerkorps, including the ever prolific and talented Glenn Donaldson (Art Museums, Skygreen Leopards, Jewelled Antler, etc.) as well as a rotating cast of band members including some AQ alumni.
"Silent Party" is perhaps the most infectious song Horrid Red have crafted yet. Sounding like some lost gem of gloomy dark wave pop that one might hear on some awesome reissue by Dark Entries. But just as we played that song over and over several times and finally allowed ourselves to hear the next track "The Horror & The Cruelty" we had to seriously rethink if this track now takes the cake for their best blast of sneering motorik Fad Gaget inspired darkness.
The two tracks on the B side "Marble Staircase" and "Parts I & II" are less immediate but showcase their ability to create a downer atmosphere with such success.
At a time when we've been getting lots of 7"s with just one killer song, we appreciate that there are four totally strong tracks on this 7" making it well worth the price.
NOW ON VINYL VIA HANDMADE BIRDS!! Here's the review we wrote when the cd version came out on Utech...
Part three in the Human Quena Orchestra's ever evolving sonic mission to create what could possibly be the darkest, and most intense post industrial metallic blacknoise EVER. Not like there's a lot of competition, and having worked our way now through all three records, even if there were any other outfits foolhardy to have a go at HQO, they'd most likely be dispatched in short order. As anyone who's heard either Means Without Ends or The Politics Of The Irredeemable can attest to. Easily, two of the bleakest, most abject and miserable collections of hellish hymns and burntblack dronescapes ever committed to tape. HQO's modus operandi is a combination of caustic black buzz, of pounding machine like percussion and howling anguished shrieked vokills, all wound tight into throbbing, churning, nightmarish chunks of jagged black filth, and crusty musical misanthropy. Think the usual suspects, Khanate, diSEMBOWELMENT, Winter, Skepticism, Esoteric, even Swans, and then tune it further down, slow it further down, pile on layer after layer of suffocating buzz, of oozing soul crushing low-end, and let it fester, and rot, and crumble and decay, and you'll begin to get close to the strange and sick soundworld of HQO.
A Natural History Of Failure finds HQO mastermind Ryan Unks, joined by a handful of likeminded volunteers, each adding their own secret ingredients to Unks' noxious brew, and weirdly enough, if anything, more players has not resulted in more sound, or more accurately, the sound itself does seem MORE, more dense, heavier, thicker, more filthy and fraught with emotional peril, but the songs, the structures, somehow seem even more minimal. The opening track is more a thick, pulsing drone, a dense layered funereal creep, the sounds burnt and blown out, a single riff slowed down to near static, and left to churn and chug in slow motion, while more and more buzz and thrum and hiss is piled on top, a sound so heavy and so dense, it seems constantly on the verge of collapse. The second track two is more drone than crush or pummel, beginning as a hushed distant throb, an impossibly deep low end that drifts beneath ethereal streaks of grey melody, processed voices, and textured whirs, the sound builds to a furious roil, only to settle back down into what sounds like a symphony of warped SUNNO))) records, being played simultaneously with the needle stuck in the runoff grooves. And so it continues, a warped tarpit drift, vocals only show up in track three, and even then, so low in the mix, they just sound like jagged shards of static, nearly suffocated by the heaving rumbles above.
The whole first half of the record is constant low end punishment, but part 5 is where it changes, a processed voice, stretched into a perpetual moan, a looped bit of human bred sonic texture, over a lumbering bit bit of low-end, soon subsumed by a dense cloud of corrosive hiss, of swirling white noise, which leads directly into the most minimal track on the record, a hushed minimal pulse, warm and languid, but still subtly menacing, laced with high end shimmer, and blurred tinkling melodies, leading you gently into a truly ominous and monstrous plod, a robotic pound, trudging along a series of deep buzzing swells, being slowly torn apart by some sort of static driven industrial grey noise demon, the sound rendered and recontextualized into a slowly stuttery field of deep whirs and jagged shards of crumbling static, before finally finishing off with a brief bit of muted beauty, again, the sound impossibly thick and heavy, but blurred into something almost shoegazey, but still grim and gorgeously hopeless.
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Wow, we've been waiting for someone to tell the definitive story behind one of Korea's most influential but sadly obscure guitarists and bandleaders. How influential? Well, Fender Guitars has recently made the 72 year old psych-rock veteran his own Custom Shop Tribute Series Guitar - the sixth one ever, after Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Jimi Hendrix and Eddie Van Halen. How obscure?
Well, every past review in which we've ever mentioned him, his name has had a slightly different spelling. We couldn't find much written about him except that he was considered the "Godfather of Korean Rock". His signature song, the 18 minute epic, "Beautiful Rivers And Mountains" has been featured on two other releases we reviewed but with different titles and lengths. An edited version closed the Asian installment of the Love, Peace and Poetry series under the title, "Korean Title A2" by Jung Hyun and The Men, and the Shin Jung Hyun and The Men cd we listed in the past, credits the song as "Beautiful Country", at least that one had the full length version.
The edited 10 minute version is featured here too, but it's understandable given that this is a compilation that highlights how multifaceted his career has been through this fertile 16-year period, often playing behind singers who got top billing (Kim Sun, Kim Jung Mi, Jang Hyun and Lee Jung Hwa) or in a variety of Ga-yo (pop-rock) groups (Golden Grapes. ADD4, Bloozetet, Club Date, The Donkeys, etc.), But Shin Joong Hyun's signature guitar style, moody and soulful, but with a fuzzy, distorted grooviness, is evident throughout. What's even more amazing is Hyun's arranging skills, often augmenting his guitar sound with trippy psych organ and big booming drum tones (check out the opening break on "The Man Who Must Leave" to see what we mean).
Hyun got his start in the late fifties when he found lucrative work playing on American army bases after the Korean War. The opening track "Moon Watching" is from that period. It also afforded him the opportunity to stretch out stylistically away from the Korean traditional pop sound, into more western influenced pop, R&B and psychedelic styles. But while Hyun's songwriting and arranging is often hook-inflected and groovy, there is a serious soulfulness to the songs that give them a powerful melancholic quality. For instance, Kim Jung Mi's "The Sun" sounds like a song Galaxie 500 might have ripped off and made their own (maybe they did?). Jang Hyun's "Sunset" could have easily been featured on that Forge Your Own Chains comp of Heavy Dirges we raved about recently too. As Hyun's career hit the seventies, he was more interested in expanding his guitar sound with his band and moving away from the shorter poppier numbers of his sixties past. "'J' Blues 72" is the longest track on here at 15 minutes and it's all just fuzzy acid-groove freakout.
But it's the title track here that takes the prize for most amazing song. One of our favorite Asian psych tracks ever, it's really interesting to hear the incredible story behind it, as it was sadly the song that led to Hyun's professional undoing and to the beginning of a seven year forced musical exile. It turns out a representative of the corrupt leader of South Korea, Park Jung-hee, called upon Hyun to write a song about him, but he refused. The leader than asked him to write a song about the government and Hyun refused again. So perplexed and understandably, a bit paranoid about the exchange, Hyun retreated and wrote his own song about his feelings toward his country and brought it to his band to record. Since it was an eighteen minute song recorded live, the process of recording was unusually grueling, because if any mistakes were made, the band had to start over. Getting it onto a release was difficult as well because of its length but was eventually added to the B side of the singer Jang Hyun's album, originally called Jang Hyun and The Men which Shin Hyun later renamed Shin Jung Hyun and The Men (which is why we figure there have been many different names of the song and credits). Finally having it recorded, Hyun had the opportunity to perform it on TV. The song, with its simple depictions of how Korea is made up of beautiful nature and people, angered the leader and led to a subsequent country-wide musical ban, and years of interrogation, probation and oppression, until the leader's eventual assassination in 1979. Shin Joong Hyun's return to music after this period has been slow and much more low-key.
Light In The Attic has done a tremendous job compiling these tracks and doing the research into Hyun's topsy-turvy life and career, even getting the man himself to annotate all the recordings with his own personal stories of how they came to be made. With a 40 page full color booklet with photos of record covers and all of the great pop acts Hyun worked with over the period. This is not just a great document of an amazing musician, but a great view into the sixties and seventies pop-world of a little documented region of Asian music. Fans of other old and new Asian psych we love like He 6, San Ul Lim, Korean Black Eyes, Mops, Acid Mothers Temple, Up-Tight, Onna, and Satoshi Sonoda will find much to love here. Highest Recommendation!
Proto-metal fiends, give praise to the fine folks at Rise Above Relics. They've been doing a great job lately reissuing some crucial obscurities from the early '70s - Necromandus, Steel Mill, that Bang box set - and now here's another one we were excited to get in. The one and only, and quite collectable, album from 1973 by a band of heavy rockers from England who went by the somewhat silly name of Incredible Hog (apparently a porcine variation on the Incredible Hulk??). There's been songs of theirs included on a few comps we've had (A Visit To The Spaceship Factory, The Electric Asylum Vol.4) but this is the first ever proper cd reissue of the full album, authorized and remastered and all.
The first track is called "Lame" but the 'Hog definitely ain't. If you like your psychedelic blues rock big and burly, raucous and rollicking, the 'Hog are the seventies heavies you're looking for. That lead-off cut, "Lame", is an excellent intro to the album in general; a stomping, distorted rocker with loads of swingin' riffage and wailing vox, that sounds a whole lot like Led Zeppelin mixed with a bit of glitter/glam a la Slade (with the hey hey hey's and handclaps). The next track, the dazed 'n' confused dirge "Wreck My Soul" is even more on the Zepped-out blooze rawk tip, with some blues harp blowin' showing up. They venture into folkier territory on the following cut, "Execution", one of a few quite affecting, mellower melodic compositions found on the record. But mostly they're about banging out the heavier stuff, and they're back at it with the next number, "Tadpole", an uptempo stormer laced with sound FX samples (crashing thunder, crying babies, crazy laughter) giving it a bit of a proggier vibe, which is followed by the cowbell-knockin', Eastern-tinged "Another Time"... and so it goes, Incredible Hog kicking ass all up and down this album, one that any fan of the Led Zeppier side to '70s heavy rock oughtta lay their ears upon pronto. So if you dig bands like Leaf Hound, Budgie, Granicus, Lucifer's Friend, Jerusalem, Possessed (UK), Tucky Buzzard, and Stray, then prepare to add Incredible Hog to that list of proto-metal awesomeness. Bands today can't compare (although, Rise Above's Gentlemans Pistols come close, and no doubt are big 'Hog fans).
As always, Rise Above Relics does a bang-up job with the cd packaging, it's ensconced in a slipcover with fat 40 page cd booklet full of detailed notes and vintage pics, all put together with the help of the original band members. They've also managed to dig up four long lost, unreleased bonus trax (hence the "+4" in this reissue's title), recorded back in the day, some of which were meant for a second 'Hog album that never happened. At least one of 'em, a rip snorter called "Burnout", is easily up there with anything on the album itself in terms of sheer proto-metal power, and the others are worthy bonus trackage too.
All hail the 'Hog! Incredible, indeed.
Latest missive from this Weakling-worshipping one man black metal band, whose sounds has changed quite a bit since his very Dead As Dreams beholden debut Dead As Duck, with the music growing more and more varied, and the playing getting more and more polished, the recording too constantly improving or at the very least changing, even at its lowest fidelity now, it sound intentional, an integral part of the sound. What began as a rehearsal space recorded DIY project, now sound downright professional, at times, and while in many cases we'd lament that sort of 'progress', in the case of Jabladav, it really does seem to suit the sound.
Ayr begins with a gorgeous bit of acoustic guitar, before the record kicks in proper, and while it may be more polished, that doesn't mean it's not still a bit twisted and weird, clean guitars jangle over clipped drums, howled vox, it's a weird sort of blackened pop, until the buzz comes in, and then, well, it still sounds like blackened pop, reminding us of Hypothermia, that same sort of loping jangly blackness, the distortion more crumbly and blown out than the traditional black buzz. The next track too starts out all clean guitar, and crooned clean vocals, moody and swoonsome, until suddenly lurching into a chaotic black buzz, and it's definitely chaotic, a wild maelstrom of furious riffing, drums-down-the-stairs blastbeats, and of course harsh demonic vokills. The song slips right back into the clean guitar lope, the buzz swooping in again, but this time remaining a midtempo lope, this time just wreathed in a black buzz, the whole thing driven by a prominent bassline, which gives the track a distinctly gloomy gothicky feel.
But it's not all clean and croon, "Oktober" is a frenzied blast of gnarled blackness right out of the gate, raw and feral, with some awesome stop/start arrangements, the sound filthy and crusty, blown out and in the red, which helps to balance the comparatively melodic opening salvo.
The next track, even after starting out with classic black metal intro, launches into a strange hybrid, that melds black buzz to burbling basslines, strummed acoustic guitars, more of those demonic vox, the result is a strangely washed out almost shoegazey sounding blackened metal, with definite pop elements lurking beneath the surface, the vocals getting particularly creepy and unhinged. It's a cool sound, and definitely unlike any other black 'metal' we've heard. And so it goes, the record continuing to confound, as Jabladav seems to loved doing, the next track a woozy slo-mo dirge, some killer riffing wrapped around a minimal beat, mesmerizing and hypnotic, might be one of our favorite tracks on the record, the guitars thick and buzzy but still melodic, the sound harsh and heavy, but atmospheric and a bit doomy.
The title track begins with the sound of thunderstorms, beneath weirdly processed guitars, a warped shimmery guitarscape, ambient and strangely psychedelic, the song does briefly explode into some black buzz about halfway through, but the buzz is muted, and the song is driven by a lilting melody, and everything is blissed out and becomes more so as the song morphs back into that opening pulsing guitarscape. Finally the record finishes off with another bit of impossibly melodic black buzz, the first half all chiming and shimmering, the second half more of the same, but wedded to a buried blast beat, and with slightly more buzz, but still ultimately melodic and more pretty really than grim or black.
This may in fact be the least overtly black metal Jabladav record yet (barring the ambient discs), and is most definitely the strangest, but because of all that, it might just be our favorite so far�
Packaged in a purplish-pink digipak, LIMITED TO ONLY 100 COPIES, each one signed and hand numbered ON THE SHRINKWRAP, which means if you open it, that number will be gone, unless you save the plastic wrap.
For ages now, we've wondered what it's gonna take for Cul De Sac guitarist Glenn Jones to finally be embraced by the masses the same way many of his American primitive, modern Appalachian, Takoma guitar school influenced brethren have been, like James Blackshaw, Ilyas Ahmed, Jack Rose, Richard Bishop, and even Bill Orcutt. All beholden to Fahey and Kottke and Bull in different measures, and all seemingly WAY more popular than Jones. But every time we listen to one of Jones' solo records, we're blown away, totally transported, his playing fluid and lyrical, a master of alternate tunings, and all manner of string instruments, his music is lush and gorgeous, the sound rife with lush tangles of steel string buzz, spare skeletal melodies, weaving darkly delicate, dreamily textured guitarscapes that really have no equal as far as we're concerned. The first track here is a perfect example, "A Snapshot Of Mom, Scotland 1957" is a sun dappled bit of dreamy acoustic shimmer, lush and languid, hushed and emotive, it Jones' own reimaging of the Takoma sound, recasting it as some sort of summery ballad, and it's breathtaking. Much of the record dips into more traditionally Appalachian sounds, but Jones definitely has his own way, a unique style, that definitely shines through and when he straps on the banjo, wow, a gorgeous instrument as it is, but Jones makes it sing, and weaves intricate buzzing melodies into something tranquil, haunting and just a little bit dark.
And while all the songs here are pretty fantastic, the big surprise is the 17+ minute closer, "The Orca Grande Cement Factory at Victorville", which finds Jones teaming up with drummer Chris Corsano for a sprawling bit of avant folk, Jones' guitar the centerpiece, but Corsano matching the rhythm of Jones' fingerpicking with bursts of snare skitter, clouds of cymbal shimmer, locking into hypnotic motorik rhythms and then slipping into much more freeform percussive drifts, the drums definitely staying well in the background, until the final three minutes when Corsano lets loose with a wild maelstron of frenzied drum chaos, only to quickly slip right back into the shuffling snare accompaniment, and then quickly stumble to a halt, where we hear the voices of Jones and Corsano, and get a quick glimpse behind the recorded curtain.
So fantastic, and thus obviously totally recommended. Here's hoping this new record, Jones' first for Thrill Jockey, does in fact get more people to check him out. And if you're a fan of any or all of the above mentioned guitarists (Blackshaw, Rose, Bishop) and have somehow not heard Glenn Jones, do yourself a favor...
Hopefully you already picked up the awesome collection of rare tracks by Turkish psych guitarist Erkin Koray that Sublime Frequencies recently released. If that put you in the mood for more vintage psych pop rock from Turkey, we've also just received this import disc of stuff by one of Koray's contemporaries, the late Cem Karaca, former member of Mogollar. His is a name that's certainly up there in the Anatolian rock pantheon, along with Erkin Koray, Baris Manco and Edip Akbayram.
Originally released in 1972, it compiled songs circa '69-'71, recorded for 45rpm singles by Karaca with his bands Kardaslar ("The Brothers") and Apaslar ("The Apaches"). The general tone of these tracks is towards the romantically, dramatically bombastic and orchestrated, with strings and horns and vocals that are almost operatic. He's like the Turkish Tom Jones at times... but there's some satisfying stabs of fuzz as well, and of course those irresistible Anatolian folk rhythms and melodies. While this disc isn't quite so killer as that Koray one, it's still pretty cool.
Cd booklet includes liner notes, photos, all that good stuff.
While we've been treated to numerous divine sonic excursions from Mr. Leyland Kirby (aka The Caretaker) over the last couple years, since the release of the mind blowing and unanimous all time aQ fave Sadly, The Future Is No Longer What It Was lp trilogy, which included the all-over-the-map Intrigue & Stuff series, and the old timey mixtape that was the Caretaker's An Empty Bliss Beyond This World, this latest mysterious missive, evocatively (or provocatively?) titled Eager To Tear Apart The Stars, most definitely seems to be the first record that sonically acts as a logical follow up, to that sprawling triptych, delving into the same sort of hauntological soundcaping, but with a distinctive shift in sound. Which becomes obvious from the first track, and continues throughout, the mood is somber, the vibe darkly cinematic, easily the most patient and painterly thing we've heard from Kirby,
ominous piano stabs wreathed in thick surface noise, a warm muted hissy buzz, hovering over softly soaring strings, a weightless chordal thrum, that seems hopeful and lit from within, but manages to still remain earthbound, as if tethered to some unseeable darkness. The first two tracks and the haunting closer, seem to be a suite of sorts, some lost soundtrack, driven by melancholy piano and wreathed in those sweetly sorrowful strings, initially the sounds buried in grit and crackle, but by the record's end, that noise seems to have abated, leaving the sound crystalline and prismatic, almost as if the receding noise reflects a sort of sonic hopefulness, a light at the end of a very long tunnel.
But between these cinematic bookends, lurk several tracks that rank among our favorite Kirby jams yet. "To Reject The World" is a sonic trifle, an intro of sorts, the piano from the opening movements carry over, this time over a thick rumbling swirl of blackened buzz, drifting on sinister swells, before giving way to "No Longer Distance Than Death", which sounds like it could have been lifted from Sadly, The Future Is No Longer What It Was, a slow motion creep, everything hazy and blissed out, rumbling distortion and muted buzz smeared into bleary streaks of dreamlike sound, like an M83 track spinning at 6rpm on an old Victrola, so moving and haunting, and that's when The Caretaker pays a visit, his "They Are All Dead, There Are No Skip At All", another haunted ballroom slow dance, all murky strings, muddied chiming melodies, woozy strings, some sort of slow motion waltz, a dance of the damned captured on wax cylinder and played back in an alternate future, mysterious and utterly lovely.
Once again, Kirby continues to explore the hauntological sonic underworld, and gives us just a glimpse of the musical mysteries that reside there.
Much like the Great White Wonder 4cd/5lp box from legendary Japanese psych combo Les Rallizes Denudes that we reviewed a while ago, this brand new SIX cd box, capturing a handful of the band's live shows in the early eighties, is most definitely not for dabblers. In fact, we've definitely reached a point, where unless you're a crazed collector, a Les Rallizes Denudes completist, or just an insane record nerd, you've probably surpassed your LRD quota, for, well FOREVER. Thankfully it seems, plenty of you out there are one or all of those things, cuz we couldn't keep that Great White Wonder box in stock, and it looks to be the same situation with this new one. Heck, all the Japanese psych nerds here either need, want or have already bought this, so we imagine some of you do too (although, let's not forget, that one aQ-er, who shall remain nameless, at one point bought a massive FORTY cd-r Les Rallizes Denudes set, which speaks to a whole other set of problems, but we digress).
So this set collects three legendary shows, that took place in 1980 and 1981, and featured the band with their new guitar player, who was chosen by LRD mainman Takashi Mizutani to replace 2nd guitarist Takeshi Nakamura, and the player was chosen with the intent of finding someone more connected with the burgeoning punk scene, so the sound here, is a bit more 'punk', although ultimately the sound is not THAT far removed from seventies Rallizes, pounding drums, wild swirling squalls of blown out guitar, effects everywhere, the vocals dripping with them, many of the songs laid back and poppy, dipping into a sort of Velvets-y dirge (which the band had already proven to be quite adept at), the sound smeared and druggy and dreamy, long stretches of moody meander leading into dense psychnoise blowouts, dubbed out rhythms, heavy and haunting, the vocals especially, powerful and shamanistic, and with a body of work that is mostly raw poorly recorded live sets, the sound here is killer, loud, intense, echo drenched, and supremely psychedelic. And now having listened to this box all the way through yet again, we might have to recant our opening statements, cuz really, how could you NOT want this, it RULES!!!
It's gonna be interesting to hear what Emeralds will sound like on their follow-up to the 2010 album Does It Look Like I'm Here? Since that album, two of the three members - John Elliott and Mark McGuire - have been super prolific in their own projects, all of which seem to be eschewing the post-noise melancholy which streamed through Emeralds' melodies of intertwined kosmische synth arpeggiation and stratospheric guitar loopings. Elliott's numerous solo and side projects have found him entertaining a new age ethos more and more, complete with a cosmically induced alter-ego. So far the music's still good for Elliott, but there could be some warning signs that he could take a nose-dive in the worst possible way. At least, his Spectrum Spools imprint seems to be keeping an edgier sensibility (especially those Bee Mask albums). Mark McGuire's own work has been one of a perpetually-stoned-in-summertime time-loop, where his brightly ringing guitar wraps itself into layered patterns upon which he builds cinematically charged ambient-pop crescendos. His album Living With Yourself certainly built from this template, and McGuire proves just how versatile that template can be on Get Lost. There's plenty of effervescent synths which noodle and blorp through rippling echo patterns, which takeover McGuire's proceedings on the aptly named "Firefly Constellations" but McGuire is at his best when employing guitar and loop station as on the urgent chime of "Another Dead End" furthered by Vini Reilly like flourishes that burst into an expressive solo mirroring something from early Guru Guru. The rest of the tracks settle into a warm groove as if bathed in late-summer sunlight, including the vocal number "Alma" which certainly looks to Animal Collective in its quadruple-tracked vocals but with an ear for Eno's melodies instead of Brian Wilson's. McGuire has never failed in delivering something lovely, and that's the case with Get Lost.
Originally released as a super limited cassette, this killer chunk of witch house gets the deluxe vinyl treatment, and fuck the haters out there, it sounds as good as ever. Again, it bears repeating that for a genre that seemed to be born, get WAY too popular, and then incur a ridiculous backlash in such a short amount of time, the number of ACTUAL releases is surprisingly low, with most of the tracks released as cd-r's or mp3's or on SoundCloud or whatever, which is kind of a bummer, cuz as much as popular opinion may have turned, we still love this sound. The thick gloomy synths, the skittery crunk like beats, the chopped and screwed vocals, the doomy psychedelic ambience, all woven into some weird sort of grim gloomy electro, which appropriately goes by many genre names, drag, grave rave, zombie rave, cave rave, but you know what, we're fin with witch house. And really, if you dug the Salem (and really how could you not?!), then this will definitely push those same buttons. Not nearly as M83 blown out shoegaze pop (although there are some very M83 moments), and minus the rapping, Mellow Grave while sonically similar in many ways, definitely have their own take on WH, which is more of a gloomy new wave pop, infused with all the above mentioned elements, we hear bits of Joy Division for sure, New Order, Cold Cave, seems like adventurous fans of those bands might dig this as well. Industrial percussion, wheezing ominous synths, rhythmic stutter and skitter, warm deeply crooned vocals, loads of psychedelic effects, the songs usually crawl and creep, but when the tempo gets cranked, the frantic vibe is pretty exhilarating.
The opening track might still be our fave, with its horror movies synths over drum machine skitter and deep rumbling bass buzz, it's easy to imagine this as some sort of modern John Carpenter influenced composition for some crazed art flick, and then the vocals come in, and becomes some sort of dour witchy synth pop, laced with all manner of tangled melodies, and clipped and looped voices buried in the mix, haunting and hooky and so great. The second track is just as cool, sacrificing the thick low end heaviness for some killer stuttery industrial beats, that wind around more crooned vox and cool hooky distorted synth melodies that almost sound like some weird guitar buzz, the whole thing peppered with these machinegun like blasts of percussion. So killer. Recommended for fans of any of the current crop of new / cold / synth / electro wave, and obviously anyone who digs Salem, Balam Acab, Mater Suspiria Vision and all the rest, this is most definitely your new favorite record.
Latest from Ilya Monosov, a one time member of psychedelic outfit The Shining Path, as well as one half of the Monosov Swirnoff duo (along with Irwin's brother Preston), we weren't sure what to expect, but somehow this really wasn't it. That said, we're digging it a lot. The sound is still psychedelic, but it's almost like a classic rock sort of psychedelic, urgently strummed acoustic guitars, crunchy riffs, big drums, even some tambourines, wheezing organs, some rad wild super distorted leads, really, in some way, this could be some classic slab of old school hard rocking psych, EXCEPT for the vocals, which transform this into something else entirely. Not sung, or crooned, but more sort of spoken, delivered in a seriously creepy, whisper, we thought maybe it was just an affectation on the first track, but the vocals are like that throughout, a sort of gruff Tom Waits sung/spoken rasp, ominous and a little bit sinister, all over barrelhouse piano, classical guitar, buzzing rumbling strings, horns and various percussion, dreamy female background vocals, druggy effected 12 string guitars, plenty of fuzz, what sounds like maybe a Theremin, and really, the music sans vocals is all shades of the Doors, and Santana, and War, and Big Star, and Crazy Horse and the like, but then those vocals change everything, and really, that's gonna determine how much you dig this. We're digging it quite a bit.
Includes a download coupon as well!
It's been a while since we hauled out the extra o's, but really it's sorta impossible to describe Australian ultra doomlords Mournful Congregation without a bunch of em, cuz this is truly some epic, grim, funereal dooooooooooooooooooooom. Which avid readers of the aQ list will understand as shorthand for creeping glacial tempos, mournful, melancholy melodies, tarpit riffage, deep bellowed vox, pounding slow motion drums, atmospheric and fantastically depressive and miserable. The strange thing is, these guys crank out records like crazy, yet this is the first time we've reviewed a proper record of theirs, the only other time they've made it on the list, was via the Four Burials record, a split with Loss, Orthodox and Otesanek. And actually this collection right here gathers up various tracks from splits and comps, INCLUDING a partially re-recorded version of their song from that split, which we described thusly:
"Legendary purveyors of true doom, Australia's Mournful Congregation, whose sound is sad and sorrowful, melancholy and miserable, a gorgeously epic lugubrious crawl, super melodic, but totally washed out and painted in sweeping shades of black and grey. Think Skepticism, Thergothon, Esoteric, Asunder, the sort of dark, slow motion, soul stirring creep we could listen to forever."
Which indeed pretty much describes everything here, fans of the above mentioned bands who are somehow not already fans of these guys might as well start here. Five tracks, 43 minutes, including the aforementioned Four Burials track, as well as their tracks from the tribute to Thergothon, a split 10" with Stone Wings, a split 7" with Stabat Mater, and a split 7" with Worship, although we were definitely wondering how they managed to cram 8+ minutes onto a 7". Regardless, the sounds here are epic and dark, mournful and melancholy, crushing and gloriously despondent, the perfect soundtrack for black thoughts and broken souls, and essential doooooooooooooom for sure...
The back catalog reissue campaign continues from Oakland's favorite sons, the mighty Neurosis, whose Sovereign was an ep originally released in 2000, chronologically and thus sonically sitting right between Times Of Grace and A Sun That Never Sets. Four sprawling, slow building tracks of post doom heaviness, of sinister smoldering metallic post rock, an epic chunk of psychedelic, metallic, atmospheric Neurosis-music ('cause by this point, and perhaps well before, their heavy, percussive tribal crust-prog had become too distinctive and unique to be compared to much else). Produced by Steve Albini, the usual pound and crush, the spidery melodies, and hushed gruff vocals, not to mention the squalls of downtuned chug and feral howl, and those mesmerizing tribal rhythms, are again augmented by various guests (including of course members of Amber Asylum) adding violin, tuba, trombone, cello, etc. What else to say about these guys, their sound, dark, droning, and hypnotic, and a sound that continues to be emulated by essentially every heavy band around.
This new version of Sovereign, besides offering up all new artwork and a swank slipcover, also tacks on a bonus track "Misgiven", a dark experimental noise drenched dirge that almost sound more like Neurosis offshoot Tribes Of Neurot more than the band proper, thick sinewy basslines, pounding slo-mo rhythms, all wreathed in swirling clouds of electronics, hiss and whir and shimmer, spacey and psychedelic, fractured and noisy, especially near the end, when the bass drops out, leaving just a strange tripped out, dubbed out electronic noise flecked drum pound.
**SALE **SALE* *SALE**
Did some cleaning in the back of the store, found a stash of these that we reviewed back on list #187. So, last ever copies, marked down, get 'em while you can...
Once again, another soul chilling blast of frosty grimness from Sweden's Total Holocaust Records (who were responsible for recent AQ black metal faves Blodulv and The One!). Northstream are from Russia and are just about as raw and primitive as it gets. Guitars buzz and hiss sounding alternately like a vacuum cleaner or a blender, only occasionally like an actual guitar, but those six shrieking strings wrapped in white noise evoke ambience of the darkest and grimmest sort. The buzzing blazing black metal is balanced by stretches of mid tempo 'doom', where you can almost hear the sounds of the frozen wastelands from whence Northstream come. But it's not your typical doom, it's 'doom' only in comparison to the Merzbowian blacknoise surrounding it, a blackened doom that's all brittle ear piercing guitars, primitively programmed beats and skull piercing shrieks.
Interesting album title, by the way, did they just take a particularly refreshing shower?
Huzzah! The former guitarist for '90s underground noiseniks Harry Pussy is back with a 2nd full length solo lp, his guitar strings once again all in a tangle - maybe six of 'em, but probably less, last we checked he had dispensed with the A and D strings, 'cause he plays a (repaired) broken-necked vintage acoustic that couldn't take the strain. Of course, the way he plays it, we'd think it wouldn't be safe with even one string...
2009's critically acclaimed A New Way To Pay Old Debts was crazy popular, a proverbial hotcake of a seller here, and fans of that record won't be disappointed with this equally emotive follow-up. Wild Bill brings the urgent, alien Appalachia, this album a noisy-as-acoustic-can-be "blues" freakout that's, as we've said before, both frantic -and- focused. Chaotic, tumbling, yet trance-inducing in its intricate intensity. There's also some calmer respites from his sturm-und-drang (strum-and-dang?), like the stark, hushed "Heaven Is Closed To Me Now".
Orcutt throws in some wordless vocalizations here and there, getting properly glossolalic at times, which only adds to the "outsidery-ness" of the proceedings - and also conveys even more authentic feeling. This is one dramatic, raw, real record; while this might be what we like to call "fuckery", he's not fucking around. Fans of such folks as Japan's Kan Mikami and Tetuzi Akiyama, Jandek, and of course spiritual "American Primitive" mentor John Fahey (imagine John Fahey meets Derek Bailey!) should find this speaks to them in a language that can't be faked. And non-fans, or not-yet-fans? Well at first blanch you might find this tough going, but stick with it and see if it doesn't stir something in your soul.
Currently gatefold vinyl-only, compact disc version to follow in a few weeks. And by the way, nice Stevie Ray Vaughan pick collection on the cover! Rolling in his grave, no doubt...
People had been coming in the store asking if we had this Part Time record for a while before we were able to get it in and check them out for ourselves, and now we can see what the fuss was all about. This is great bedroom left field pop, equal parts James Pants, Nite Jewel, Ariel Pink, and Washed Out. Every track on What Would You Say? glows with such a nice languid haze. While so much chill wave has started to get obnoxious and heavy handed, Part Time bring back a modesty and subtle touch to this style that we appreciate so much. Songs that make you sway with the slightest ease, and take you somewhere filled with soft lighting, mellow vibes, and washed out desire.
We're stoked to see a fairly priced lp on Mexican Summer too and this one is limited to 750 copies, hand numbered, and comes with a digital download. Don't sleep on this!
Petals is the long germinating shoegaze electronica project of former aQ-er Cameron "Edge Of Sanity" Octigan, a dark, dolorous set of songs that owe as much to the blown out noise pop of groups like My Bloody Valentine and the Jesus And Mary Chain as it does to the blurred bliss pop ambience of Gas and other minimal electronic technicians. The opening track here is very reminiscent of Gas, all hushed minimal melodies, a heartbeat like techno pulse, a muted throb buried in the murk, everything wrapped in a thick patina of gauzy whir and bleary shimmer, which quickly gives way to the first song proper, a warm murky dirge, thick swaths of crunchy low end, buried melancholy melodies, like a shoegaze jam stripped down to its bare components and recast as minimal electronica, hazy almost choral voices seem to drift in and out, give the track an almost witch house vibe. Eventually the drums get a little bit busier, the melodies emerge from the murk, the sound seeming to crystallize and coalesce into an almost proper pop, and then the song splinters into a weird bits of synth pop, all careening dubbed out rhythms, squiggly synths, and those spectral voices, epic and so beautiful.
The rest of the tape is surprisingly varied, while managing to all link together as a strangely cohesive whole, "In Gathering" is a bit of blissed out woozy IDM, given a sort of dream pop makeover, those haunting vocals making a but here processed into haunting high end melodies, all over a whirling soft focus almost house music rhythm, "The Longest Mirror" is the first really beat heavy jam, with a hand clap rhythm draped over a thick buzzing bass, and some hazy dreamy synths, a twisted bit of house-y electro pop, that leads directly into the brief "Only A Thought", which also has a bit of a witch house feel, echoey handclaps hovering in fields if warped synths and electronic glimmer, the sound just drifting and gradually slowing down to a warbly dreamlike drag, until the tape closes with "Everyone's Longest Summer", another primo slab of washed out electro-gaze, but with a haunting ominous undercurrent, strange disembodied voices, a super skeletal high hat rhythm, the whole thing bleary and blissy, and gradually shedding various elements, until just that minimal beat, and then finally, that slowly fading low end buzz...
So great! We really can't imagine Petals will remain a secret for long, in fact, we're sort of shocked this tape is the first anyone will hear, and it's a bit of a tease at 17 minutes, but it has been getting massive repeat plays and definitely has us hankering for more!
We haven't heard from Canadian outfit Picastro in ages, in fact, we sort of assumed they might be no more. In past reviews we described their music as having a "somber heaviness" which makes them a pretty good match for doomgaze duo Nadja, and indeed the two groups team up for this lp collaboration, and from the sound of it, the A side seems to be more of a Picastro record, with Nadja guesting, and the B side a Nadja record with help from Picastro. But both sides are pretty great.
Picastro's 'side' is a series of shorter tracks, a woozy sort of post rock, detuned twang, male and female vocals, plenty of weird distortion, there's a Tom Waits sort of junkyard vibe to a lot of the sounds here, which also reminds us of the late great Reeks And The Wrecks (whose lost first lp is reviewed elsewhere on this week's list). The sound shifts from creeping slowcore to a sort of jazzy drift, all shimmering strings and muted percussion, all wreathed in a folky ambience, the whole thing like some abstract dirgey drone folk slowcore, and the sort of thing that reminds us of Codeine and post Phleg Camp weirdo country combo the Reveries.
The flipside is a single sidelong track, which should be the first hint that Nadja are in the driver's seat. The second would of course be the thick swirling buzz, rife with acoustic guitar (Picastro?), the sound muted and washed out, before blossoming into full on distorted shoegazey dirge, blown out, heavy and hazy, but still melodic and darkly pretty, the two groups a perfect match, conjuring up a sweet bit of dreamy sorta folky doom bliss!
Includes a download coupon!
This new trio was born out of the ashes of late great Bellingham combo Reeks And The Wrecks (whose record Knife Hits was released on Andee's tUMULt label, and whose lost first lp is reviewed elsewhere on this week's list) and trades in the Reeks's ramshackle doom blues for something way more psychedelic and krautrocky, spacey and hypnotic, in fact before we get lost in the gushing wordy description that's about to follow, we thought we might head off some of you 'skimmers', by saying that all you folks who dig Moon Duo, and other similarly stripped down modern psych/kraut combos, will most likely go nuts for these guys too.
Just check out the opening track, after a few minutes of abstract psych guitar drift, the a simple, skeletal, propulsive rhythm surfaces, and the band lock into a sort of post Spacemen 3 / Jesus And Mary Chain chunk of psychfuzzkrautrock that is totally mesmerizing and hypnotic. The rhythm is locked in, looped endlessly, pounding away, while above, the multiple stringed instruments, unfurl epic swaths of sound, wild spidery leads, fuzzy pop-like jangle, crunchy angular riffage, layered drones, a lush tangle of melodies and textures, the result totally divine. Drugged out and dreamy. And the rest of the record plays out in a similar fashion, that minimal machinelike beat driving sprawling expanses of psychkraut bliss, the sound shifting from blissed out and sun dappled to darker and driving, from ethereal and blown out to slithery and almost bluesy (which is when the Spacemen 3 comparison seems particularly apt), finally culminating in the gorgeously hazy slow burn ballad that finishes things off. We obviously love Reeks And The Wrecks, and love Frozen Cloak (another post-Reeks band, reviewed elsewhere on the aQ site, their sound blacker and buzzier, and we actually have it back in stock, just ask), so you can add PRND to the list of incredible Reeks-born Bellingham bands, that should be WAY more popular than they are. Easily one of our new faves...
SUPER LIMITED, each one hand numbered, and gorgeously hand painted.
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