New vinyl reissue of the sole artifact from Chicago teenage combo The Bachs, a charmingly underground sixties garage psych platter of all-original compositions which was privately released circa '68 in an edition of only 150 copies. Such extreme rarity can tend to increase the hype (and collector's prices) without regard to true quality, but the punningly-titled Out Of The Bachs does feature some truly Nuggets-worthy tracks all right, of slightly shaky psychedelic garage jangle. The vocals are a little bit amateur, but are also quite affecting and angst-ridden, with some fine melodies and harmonies. There's a certain amount of sappy strum and sigh to this album, but then you get to a song like the "Minister Of A Mind Diseased", with its depressively morbid lyrics and fuzz-fuelled ravings, and you realize The Bachs their best really let some dark moody trippiness out of the box. For fans of The Electric Prunes, The Lollipop Shoppe, and the like.
And now One Way Static brings us a vinyl version of this killer (literally) soundtrack...
A classic slasher from the eighties, The Boogeyman is crazy even by the standards of other classic B-movie horror flicks. The plot is confusing to say the least, childhood trauma, a young girl and her brother, a murdered mother, killed while having sex, a mute child grown up to be a knife hoarding mute, living with the seemingly well adjusted sister, terrifying reflections in mirrors, eventually painted black, a priest impaled by multiple blades, possession, levitation. It's actually a pretty fun movie, but it is NUTS.
The soundtrack is a doozy though, the classic sort of Carpenter style creep fest of the time, actually quite reminiscent of what might be THEE greatest horror score EVER (and one that has inexplicably not been reissued yet), Phantasm!
Composer Tim Krog offers up ominous sprawls of squiggly synths, dense swaths of kosmische creepiness, twisted sound effects, some Halloween like melodic themes, moody organs, dark drones and moody ambience, for a batshit movie, the score is actually pretty fantastic, lovely and terrifying in equal measure, swirling atmospherics laced with cool backwards psychedelia, stately minimal melancholia, some far out WTF electronics, and a main melodic refrain that after a couple listens could definitely join the horror score pantheon of classics like Friday The 13th, Halloween and again, Phantasm.
Holodeck strikes again! The Austin-based electronic label has brought us all kinds of neat stuff, most recently releases by Marie Davidson and Boan, and this one's another cool catch. The two synth maniacs in Flatliner play, as the label puts it, what sounds like horror soundtrack music, produced like club anthems. Best of both worlds, right? Rave the night away, and indulge in the suspenseful atmospherics too. Eerie & ominous yet get-down groovy!
Mostly instrumental, but for some gloomy vocodered vocals on the coldwave-ish "City Lights Receding", this four track ep is a driving, detailed celebration of the duo's synth gear collecting obsession and finely-tuned production skills. They utilize a ton of equipment, both analog and digital, from the latest tech to some rare vintage gizmos. Heck they list some of it, for those of you who wanna know: Roland TR-808, SC Pro-One, Juno-6, Crumar Orchestrator, Ensoniq SQ-80, Oberheim Matrix 6, Emu Emax, Ensoniq ASR 10, Studio Electronics SE-1X, MFOS Modular, Dave Smith Mono Evolver, Doepfer Dark Energy, Sherman Filterbank.
In any case, for the gear-heads or not, some quite enjoyable 'dance' music. 45rpm, includes download! Limited to 500 copies.
The ridiculously rockin' quartet of Sir Serpent, Lightning Lord Python, Don "The Warrior" Viper and Ringo Snake are back to the attack, on this new disc, an assuredly "advanced" follow-up to their enjoyable Dungeon Masters album from 2012 - though once again it sounds more like 1985, being all about speedy, rollicking, retro metal glory. While this Teutonic heavy metal squad surely can't expect to be taken entirely seriously, it's not like we don't think they mean it, either. We think they DO mean it, more than most maybe. In fact, the very absurdity of their over-the-top, poser-killing metalness gives them the freedom to do what they do even better, with total abandon. So, abandon yourself to it and you'll be gleefully banging your head too. Especially for this album's most punked-out and Manowar-ish anthem, "Born To Play On Ten", the chorus of which has to be heard to be believed (but still probably not easily understood), as the combination of the singer's German accent and shrieking, all-in-one-breath crescendo'd delivery of the lines "Born! Born! Born to play on ten!" make for one of the more indecipherably nutzoid things we've heard in a while, for a metal song refrain anyway.
For fans of Metalucifer, Sacred Steel, Ironsword, Iron Dogs, Thor...
An interesting twist on the guitar soli genre sees these two old friends who both have deep roots in various hardcore, skate culture and street art scenes come together for a series of cinematic dual guitar vignettes. Rich Jacobs, whome we have featured here before with a tape on the Sanity Muffin label, is a prominent Bay Area artist with ties to the Mission School, who has designed skateboards, shoes for Vans and many of the album covers for Salt Lake City avant-hardore collective Iceburn. Tim Kerr, who most folks may know from Texan punk legends The Big Boys, is also a graphic portrait artist whose work has been featured nationwide in books, magazines and skateboards as well.
Both long inspired by roots and folk music, they craft here a variety of sounds with electric and acoustic guitars that look back on a dusty Americana filtered through a rigorous DIY indie sensibility. Beautiful strummed and picked melodies countered by searching improvisations and roughhewn noisy atmospheres weave oblique tales of small boondock towns and wide open abandoned spaces. A wondrously sublime take on the "soundtrack without a film" convention, mainly because it doesn't try too hard and their mutual compatible playing style ends up coming through quite effortlessly. For fans of Bill Orcutt, John Fahey, and Sir Richard Bishop.
When we first heard King Dude, aka TJ Cowgill, he came across as some sort of mysterious goth troubadour, his music super lo-fi, his voice impossibly, dramatically low, the whole vibe was like a bedroom Elvis crossed with drunken country heartbreak ballads and obscure downer death rock. And it was a concoction that worked for us big time. Those early records evoked long nights of sitting beside a fire, outside a rickety house, deep in the bayou, while this man in black crooned and strummed, spinning tales of death, and loss, love and betrayal.
Thus, the first track on Songs Of Flesh And Blood - In The Key Of Light threw us off a bit, sounding unlike anything we'd heard before from King Dude, instead reminding us of Iceage or the Holograms, being crunchy, fuzzy, hooky, with electric guitars and driving drums. Gloomy post punk of the highest order for sure, and catchy as all get out. While we were hoping for a whole record of this post punk bombast, the second track settles back into more familiar territory, although much less murky and muddy, the production pristine, guitars shimming over reverbed piano, hand claps, KD's deep vocals out Nick Caving Nick Cave himself, in fact, we're hearing some twisted mix of Nick Cave, along with Woven Hand, Majical Cloudz and even some Tom Waits, at his very swampiest. Snarly slither gives way to lilting popsmithery, and lovely, heartfelt ballads collapse into grinding black miserablism. And just to prove that first track wasn't a fluke, that more rocking sound pops up several more times, most notably on "Rosemary", which sounds like a garage blues Suicide, or Chrome covering the Velvets.
And so it goes, King Dude delivering an ever shifting collection of sonic darkness, heartfelt introspection, wistful folkiness, twang flecked gloom rock, and over the top, almost goth cabaret. Cowgill is the master of his craft for sure, and that craft continues to grow ever more varied and expansive, baffling and mysterious, and with every record, as the sound and sounds continue to fracture and mutate and push well beyond the boundaries of those early record, they somehow also manage coalesce ever more neatly into an already difficult to define sound, perhaps one who's magic is in its indefinable nature, one that is perhaps best left impressionistic, to be heard and felt and maybe, but only maybe, one day truly understood.
Latest in the series of reissues of obscure Lee Hazlewood productions from Light In The Attic comes this great anthology of tracks by a band of Nuggets-worthy never-weres from Amarillo Texas, The Kitchen Cinq (pronounced "Sank", a play on the French word for five, as they were a five piece, see!). The groop's sole 1966 album (Everything But....) and string of singles should have made them more than a mere blip in the regional psych scene as they were influenced both by the British Invasion and the emerging West Coast jangle folk sound. Like a mix of The Thirteenth Floor Elevators and The Byrds, with a seemingly aphetamine-fueled fuzz-pop sound, the band's probable lack of longevity was likely due to the fact they didn't record much of their own material - though songs like "Dying Daffodil Incident" and "When The Rainbow Disappears" by title alone should have set them apart. Instead, we largely get great covers of Neil Diamond ("Solitary Man"), Buffy Saint Marie ("Codeine") and The Hollies ("I Can't Let Go"), amongst many others. To their credit, they make these singles sparkle with gritty pop urgency, tremendous harmony and of course Hazlewood's top-notch production which accentuates the reverb and twang in such a beautifully satisfying way. As always with Light In The Attic releases, comes a great history of the band and lots of pictures. Great stuff for vintage garage beat geeks like us!
The Czech artist Milan Knizak began his art career without much success, getting himself thrown out of Pedagogic Uni Prague, Preliminary Art School Prague, and Art Academy Prague in quick succession. But during the mid '60s, Knizak affiliated himself with
Urgh!! It's the debut full-length of brutal, blackened, industrial death metal churn n' clank from this Tokyo based duo of Italian expats, consisting of M on "axe/machinery" and R on "vokills". This band's brutish, minimal, monolithic music certainly isn't for everybody, no sir, but those it IS for will love it. You might know if that applies to you already, as a couple years back we rave-reviewed Legion Of Andromeda's self-titled, self-released cd ep, essentially a demo. New recordings of three of those tracks are featured here ("Cosmo Hammer", "Overlord Of Thunder", and "Sociopathic Infestation"), alongside four new compositions. Here's some of we said about the ep, all of which surely still applies here of course: "Each track mostly a single riff, hell, at times it sounds like a single chord, chugging hypnotically, driven by a programmed robotic rhythm, occasionally shifting into a sort-of-chorus, but really it's just a noisier version of THAT ONE riff. All the while, some seriously throat shredding demon grunt, grindcore style belched vokills gurgle and growl over the top. Total knuckle dragging blackened bliss out of the highest order." (Well, that's a bliss out for people like us� we suppose others may find bliss in turning it off!).
This album was recorded by none other than Steve Albini (chances are, these guys like Big Black a lot), and compared to the demo ep, Albini cleans their sound up somewhat, just a bit, it's slightly less fuzzed and blown out, more clinical and precise perhaps. But still plenty brootal indeed. 'Tis truly a massive beatdown of heaving bowels-of-hell vocals, oppressive drum machine battery, and wall-of-static axe distortion, all layered and endlessly looping in what becomes delirious, distorted, deathly dementia, like someone took the entire early Earache catalog and reduced it all it down into some of the most psychedelically primitive, monotonously mesmerizing, mechanical heaviness possible. If you liked the Sewer Goddess we reviewed last time, but want something even more sick and EXTREME, then check this out!! In closing, we can't help but quote what the band says about this release themselves: "No filler tracks, no fade-outs, no avant-garde intellectual scum: just 7 slabs of inhuman heaviness fueled by total hate. The world is dead and mankind is shit. LIVE TO HATE. COSMO HAMMER MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE."
Cool b&w teeth/fangs cover art, which also incorporates the band's nifty axehammer logo...
A few years ago, another label did a reissue of the album Big Gun by this mysterious & bizarre early '70s dark psych band Lucifer, and we wrote a fairly long, flipped out review. Well now it's been given another, definitive, official reissue, as part of a double cd set featuring not just Big Gun but also Lucifer's even more chimerical 2nd album, a soundtrack to a "motorcycle shock film" called Exit, along with the four privately pressed singles Lucifer also put out between 1971 and '73 - in other words, it's Lucifer's complete known works, everything, all the rarities, remastered, packaged with care including archival photos and other ephemera, plus liner notes telling the story behind the band (which we didn't really know 'til now).
Here's our original Big Gun review, we figure it's enough to get you to know if you want this whole package or not (hint: you most likely do)...
We've been waiting to hear THIS for YEARS. An extremely rare and mysterious circa '72 underground UK psych lp of which we knew little and had been able to find out less. But it seemingly promised great things, as we shall explain in just a sec. Now that it's been reissued at long last, we've -finally- heard the thing, we can say that while it's not exactly what we hoped it would be, it turned out to be something quite, um, remarkable nonetheless. And after all, what we'd hoped for might have been a (literal) pipe dream anyway... Lucifer really couldn't be all it was cracked up to be, could it?? I mean, the band's very name, the all-black Smell The Glove style cover, the hairy/scary band photos, the song titles - "Banshee", "Prick", "Winter", "What Was That Thing I Saw You With Last Night" - all portend something impossibly dark and heavy, leaving us hoping that Lucifer would sound like some sort of unknown, underground, creepy cousins to Black Sabbath! And the album's original, rather confusional liner notes also hint in that direction, spouting wonderful nonsense about how the band has "this cave in Arizona" where they like to record their "evil music"! We're also informed that they did a single called "Fuck You" that was never released, having been confiscated by the police!! Sounds pretty darn metal, right? Add to that the fact that the first time we ever heard of Lucifer, years ago, was in an old interview with none other than Ozzy Osbourne, wherein he mentioned this album as being something he and his Black Sabbath mates dug back in the day! That's a lot of expectation to build up. And the truth of course is that Lucifer sound NOTHING like Black Sabbath, or metal in general. They're not even particularly heavy in the guitar department - heck, quite a lot of this is acoustic. Yet they ARE totally weird and fucked up and cool and a bit ridiculous, and definitely "heavy" in the "heavy, maaaan" stoner hippy sense of the word. We'd compare 'em to contemporaries in the British busking free fest hippy druggy psych scene like the Edgar Broughton Band and (lighter) Hawkwind, or (maybe) to NYC's Godz. And at their heaviest, when guitars are plugged in and all, some of this is murky and dismal enough to sound like something by AQ obscure Krautrock faves German Oak. Some other primitive, blues-damaged Krautrock we like also comes to mind, like Kalacakra, Siloah and Zippo Zetterlink.
The unlucky thirteen tracks of Big Gun consist in the main of meanderingly simple and repetitive hippy guitar riffing, gruff freaky vocals, subversively anti-establishment lyrics ("working is just a bore, smoking's against the law, I'm just a natural man"), and junky rhythms, all contributing to a definitely underground, overwhelmingly wastoid vibe. It makes the Pink Fairies sound almost straight. Definitely dated, yeah, but a charming artifact of a long-gone, LSD-lifestyle...
So, that's what we wrote about Big Gun! We just got this new expanded edition in, so we actually haven't even really explored Exit (also from '72) and the rest of the set yet (including that song, "Fuck You"), so we won't (and probably needn't) comment on them here. But of course are keen to delve in...
Moon Pool & Dead Band are the twisted, weirdo, electronic offshoot of freaky noisemakers Wolf Eyes, and for this latest release they dig deep into the archives for an early, early jam, the title track "Meq", and it's a doozy: total scuzzy, cyborg techno, loose limbed, electro-noise groovery. A chaotic sound that manages to be both freaky and funky, sexy and sci-fi, but seriously gritty and grimy as well. It's a propulsive dance floor destroying workout that sounds like some classic Detroit 12", spinning on a busted old turntable and run through a bank of fucked up FX. Whatever it is, and wherever it finds its inspiration, it pretty much kills, and we'd happily dig a whole record of this stuff. Which thankfully is precisely what this is, with that track getting reworked by a bunch of folks who take the original into a bunch of different directions, most of them twisted techno variants.
The BMG Interdimensional Mix though is a standout, sending tones careening from speaker to speaker, before a skittery, skeletal beat surfaces beneath a churning morass of thick, rumbling bass buzz, the end portion peppered with some seriously spaced out squelch. But perhaps our favorite is the Nate Young / Wolf Eyes mix, where Young pulls apart his own track, fashioning it into something equal parts fractured and fucked up, and also strangely sort of hypnotic and post rocky. Sounds like a weird mix, but it works, and had us hankering for a whole record of Young remixing Young. Beyond those two jams, the rest of the tracks are pretty bad ass too, each a fucked up, freaky and funky, technoid reinterpretation of a track that was already pretty freaky and fucked up on its own.
And speaking of fucked up and freaky (once again!), dig the demented cover art!
Pagan forest dwellers and Kvltists alike, unite, a new Obsequiae album has been brewing in the cauldron and is ready to be drank from the goblet! Like a medieval Marduk or a madrigal Mayhem, Obsequiae capitalizes the METAL in folk metal.
Ostensibly a band since 1998 (then called Autumnal Winds), Obsequiae released their debut Suspended In The Brume Of Eos in 2011, a stunning and powerful debut that left many, like us, wanting more. Finally, enter Aria of Vernal Tombs, a mighty follow up to that record. Obsequiae's Tanner Anderson and Co. mange to combine beautiful, haunting medieval harp tracks with a riff-centric and heavy-yet-melodic black metal assault. On the black metal tracks, Anderson's dueling guitar melodies are the driving force, catchy, melodic, but always heavy.
Aria Of Vernal Tombs (Google tells us "vernal" means of or relating to springtime, fyi... still don't know what a "Brume of Eos" is, though) never feels cheesy or hamfisted in its attempt to incorporate medieval melodies into the songs; rather, these feel like cohesive, melodic pieces that are equal parts beautiful and heavy. Obsequiae is much more interested in making you breathe the medieval air and feel the crumbling stone than playing make-believe at the Ren Faire (no offense to Ren Faire lovers, aQ's own Harry among them). This record will easily slide into our top metal albums of the year chart!
Sandor Valy and Eva Polgar need no introduction. Well, to most people they probably DO, but not to folks who regularly read the aQ-list, who may know them from the duo's two previous cds released on Jussi from Circle's Ektro label. These two Hungarian expatriates (Valy lives in Finland, Polgar here in the States) are an interesting team, making conceptual, minimalist music, their avant-garde compositions often directly based upon the works of famous painters. Valy in fact is a visual artist, and Polgar a pianist, and together they've derived / decoded fascinating music from paintings by Bruegel and Mondrian. Or at least, the paintings were inspirations. Valy & Polgar's new disc on Ektro takes the famous symbolist painting Die Toteninsel ("The Isle Of The Dead") by Arnold Bocklin (1827-1901) as its subject, a painting that Ektro reminds us was admired by the likes of Freud, Lenin, Dali and even Hitler. But the concept here is more complex than just that, as this is a "fictional reconstruction" of the lost score to an post-WWI opera called A Holtak Szigete or Die Insel Der Toten, originally written by Jeno Zador (1894-1977). The opera premiered at the Hungarian Royal Opera House in 1928. After that first performance, Zador's score somehow vanished, and the opera was never staged again. So Valy and Polgar have now composed a new score, to go with the opera's original libretto, penned in 1919 by German poet Karl Georg Zwerenz (1874-1933), a libretto of course inspired by Bocklin's painting. In this "reconstruction" of Zador's lost music, the Valy/Polgar duo have attempted to interpret the themes of the painting as reflected in Zwerenz' text, as well as to Dadaistically explore "the misunderstandings, mishearings, accents and language distortions that are characteristic of our day and age". What does that mean? Well, for one thing the text is in German but the singers aren't German speakers, and also Valy and Polgar took a highly improvisational and chaotic approach to creating and recording the music. Valy says: "The listener hears a musical improvisation in German with the singers interpreting a lost large scale composition about freedom without any instruction and without the deep knowledge of the language. I think we completed our goal." The results of course are strange and evocative, unique and mesmeric, and surely in the in the tradition of Glass and Reich as much as Valy and Polgar's previous electroacoustic compositions were.
Includes a 100 page booklet!!! So like we said, complex...
On this week's list we've got the sophomore efforts from two Sub Pop artists we like a lot, and along with Metz's II, we're digging the second album from these spaced out psychedelic hard rocking freak folks, whose sound has only gotten better the second time around. The opening track is so good it was tough to dig any deeper, the sound starting out like more recent Earth outings, sort of windswept and desert-y, all hazy, languorous twang and moody minor key shimmer, which is transformed when the vocals come in, into what sounds a bit like a more distorted, hard rocking Fleet Foxes, and then the song shifts again, blossoming into this harmonies psychedelic folk, all tangled little guitar figured, sweet harmonies, and lovely female vocals, the vibe is equal parts classic Southern rock, freak folk and bearded psych, and if that doesn't sound good to you for some reason, trust us, it does.
And like on the first record, the band don't shy away from heaviness, launching into a weird seventies sounding groover, complete with Frampton style voice box, but when Rabia Shaheen Qazi steps up to the mic, her vocals turn the track into some cool swaggery hippy hard rock, sort of witchy, reminding us of groups like Ruby The Hatchet, Blood Ceremony, and Royal Thunder, but with way more of a classic rock vibe. Which is pretty much how the rest of the record unwinds, equal parts hippy folk, seventies psych, witchy hard rock, that definitely out-retros their debut, but it's a sound they seem to have grown into, and one that suits them even more, a fuzzy hard rocking blooze, that's still plenty psychedelic, occasionally doomy, but pretty goddamn great throughout.
Savant is an apt name for a band that is not actually a band, but a project with many blind contributors and collaborators playing unfamiliar instruments with minimally open instruction, recorded remotely without prior knowledge of how their parts would be used, and passing tapes amongst each other, years before the practice of electronic musicians sending each other Logic files over the internet became common. What binded the project together was the alchemic vision and studio wizardry of reclusive Seattle ambient auteur, Kerry (K.) Leimer, who released Savant's lone record, T h e N e o R e a l i s t ( A t R i s k ) in 1 9 8 3. RVNG's Artificial Dance reissue ccollects that record with their d e b u t 1 2" a n d a g r i p o f c o m p i l a t i o n a n d u n r e l e a s e d t r a c k s.
You may remember our earlier review of the RVNG's anthology of Leimer's lesser known ambient works, A Period of Review (1975-1983), which displayed an outsider affinity with the generative and open compositional tape works of Cage, Stockhausen and Eno. Leimer's Savant project at first glance may seem like a devout following into the Fourth World tape experimentation and global intrigue of Possible Musics and My Life In The Bush of Ghosts, or David Byrne's soundtrack for Twyla Tharp's dance piece, The Catherine Wheel, but its construction is much stranger and obtuse. Employing a move towards rhythm and texture in transportive and evolving phases, the way these cobbled bits of varying studio perfomance are pieced together so seamlessly to create their own visionary world is its own extraordinary accomplishment. One that connects to the methodical ethnographical productions of Wally Badarou, Finis Africae and Haruomi Hosono and clears a path to later developments of digidub and trip hop a decade later. We can't emphasize enough how good this sounds right now. Recommended!
The profane and blasphemous agenda of Lee M. Barlow (the principle agent behind Theologian, working with a few willing supplicants) looks backwards at the dual histories of metal and industrial culture. Yup, it is commonplace to find vehement opposition to Christian doctrine in the reversal the symbols as sigils of a black magic. Yet, this opposition is rarely a full-frontal denial of God as the blank void of atheism has no place for the transcendent and the spiritual, both of which manifest proudly in this rich and diverse iconoclasm. Aesthetically speaking, we suppose this could be trace even further back to Carl Orff, whose work has become the de facto audio signifier for all things Satanic; and probably further before Nietzsche, Lautremonte, and Baudelaire to the charisma of heretics, ignoble witches, and self-designated messiahs. So in a polemic for the will to power and the deification of the self, it's not all that much about what's said, but how it's said. And the aesthetics of Theologian speak mightily through blunt force, wielded as a relentless production of blackened synths and grim industrial drone. Pain Of The Saints conjures a sonic turbulence that is almost wholly drumless, which stands as a departure from much of the other Theologian albums which rely on heavy Teutonic beats to propel the vitriol and wailing. It's nonetheless an exhausting and exasperating journey, blasting through one miasma after another of aggressive amalgams of guitars, synths, and voice, two whole discs worth!
U/V Light is the solo project of Kip Ulhorn from Cloudland Canyon, whose expansive psychedelic, electronic krautrock-influenced spaciness we've raved about here many times. Perhaps not surprisingly, Cenotaph, Ulhorn's first proper outing as U/V Light, shares many sonic similarities with Cloudland Canyon, but unlike the unabashed cosmic Krautrock worship of that project, U/V Light is more rhythmic and poppy, pulsing and shoegazey, a hazy, mesmeric Kraut inflected synth pop, equal parts sequenced Tangerine Dream style synth-swirl, and dreamy, prismatic electro pop.
Opener "Arriviste" sets the tone perfectly, unfurling a lush, pulsating landscape of undulating tones and textures, a sequenced swirl of retro-electro psychedelia, wound around deliriously effervescent drum machines, and vocalist Gabby Weiss' dreamy vox, ethereal and wreathed in reverb, giving the proceedings a sort of 4AD feel as well.
The rest of the record splits the difference between the sorts of old school synth wave and electronic pop that Medical generally specializes in, and Ulhorn's predilection for far out kosmische drift and heady kraut-psych mesmer, and it's somehow all held together by a dream pop shoegaze sensibility that makes tracks like "Celestial Cenotaph", which almost sounds like a seventies electro-synth version of slowcore legends Low (due in no small part to Ulhorn's weary vox), and the gritty, retro synth wave crunch of "Semaphone", perfect sonic bedfellows.
Moody minimalism meets epic, inner/outer space-drone-drift meets pulsing synth-gaze meets ethereal electro dream pop meets electronic psychedelia... Well, you get the picture. WAY recommended for fans of Cloudland Canyon (obviously) and most of Medical's releases as well!
And like all Medical records, pressed on nice 180 gram colored vinyl!
