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Pounding Finnish black metal hell. Super heavy. But also simple and melodic, with swirling keyboard textures and vocals alternating between harsh screeching and clean sort-of-chanting. (Courtesy of the singer from Amorphis, apparently relishing this

RealAudio clip: Yhdeksas
RealAudio clip: Verivalta

Akercocke has been touted as England's great black metal hope. A lot to live up to when you consider the UK has produced Venom, the fathers of black metal, and probably the most successful black metal band of all time, Cradle of Filth. Setting a course for

RealAudio clip: Of Menstrual Blood And Semen
RealAudio clip: A Skin For Dancing In

Another long overdue reissue from these French Canadian masters of stripped down black buzz. We reviewed their amazing 2001 debut, Goetie, a few lists back, and now we've got Sang Nordique originally released in 2002, it's just as black and buzzy, offkilter and strange. And as hard as it is to believe, maybe even better than the debut, certainly weirder! Beginning with a damaged super reverbed guitar intro, that sounds like some impossible cross between blackened surf music and a Morricone western score, featuring a gorgeously melancholy, super distorted guitar buzzing within a cloud of thick reverb, the band immediately launch into some gloriously relentless Darkthrone-ish pounding old school blackness, with looped riffage, killer blastbeats, and some super harsh hellish howls. But by the next track, they've switched gears, and are spitting out some weird sort of crusty punk rock, flecked with a little old school classic metal, sounding for the most part, minus the blackened vocals, like this could be Doom or Discharge or some missing D-beat band from the eighties. Track three, the title track, has them switching it up once again, with a strangely melodic midtempo groove, pounding out a garage-y sort of stomp, sounding not a little bit like the Brainbombs, filthy and blown out, in the red and dripping with crumbling distortion, lots of swagger and groove, but painted all sorts of black.� The next two tracks are straight ahead D-beat black thrash, furiously frenzied blasts of buzz and howl, veering from full on black metal, to more of that sort of blackened crusty punk. But then things get super strange... The second to last track, "La Nature De Mon Pans", begins as a loping swinging dirge, all demonic howl, caveman pound, and some super stripped down riffing, until the -other- vocals come in, a monotone Jandekian drawl, a slightly atonal croon, that suddenly gives this a Circle Of Ouroborus vibe, and the track is transformed into a lurching demented, seasick downer slab of doomy crust pop, complete with soaring minor key lead guitar. Whatthefuck?!? So goddamn good! It had us almost wishing the whole record sounded like this.� At least until the final track, a 10+ minute drone and buzzscape of rumbling low end glitches, distant reverbed drum pound and haunting vocals, like a black metal Whitehouse maybe, the whole track a grinding rumbling glacial dirge, with those creepy vocals drifting ghostlike over the machinelike murk. Another seriously amazing WTF moment on a record packed with 'em. Definitely one of our favorite weirdo black metal bands, and Sang Nordique is one of their best records for sure. We can hardly wait to get their most recent full length�La Grande Infamie (from 2006) reviewed and on the list! But until then, this should most certainly hold you over...

MPEG stream: Riposte
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MPEG stream: Sang Nordique

So imagine some sort of ultra doom band, like Bunkur or Moss or Corrupted, the downtuned low end heaviness, the brooding, harrowing blackened sound world; now imagine, if you can, a band like that that doesn't make doom metal, or sludge, or even dronemusic, but instead makes electronic music. Imagine some hellish danceclub, hidden away in some cavern, far below the surface of the earth, where only demons, and those that dwell in the shadows, could be found. And certainly not on the dancefloor - this music is not for dancing, it's too ominous, too grim, too blackened. That club is wreathed in shadows, with some mysterious DJ spinning records with ribcage rattling lowend, skull caving beats, the sounds droney and bleak, blown out and minimally murky, some sort of black avant dub maybe? That may all sound too good to be true, or classic aQ hyperbole, but this debut full length from Akkord, definitely evokes exactly that sort of scenario. Just check out the opener, "Torr Vale", preferably on a really loud speaker, or in a car, system BOOMING, or in headphones, volume cranked, it's stunningly immersive, the low end a physical presence, less dance music or electronica than abstract sound design, we're tempted to make comparisons to Ben Frost, Roly Porter, Pole, Demdike Stare, there's definitely a huge hauntological vibe going on for sure, but somehow, this is even more grim and sinister than anything Demdike Stare has conjured up. Swaths of blackened shimmer, clipped beats, submerged in a murky sprawl of tarpit ambience, squelchy synths add subtle colorations, but it's all about the low end, the rumbling, whirring, churning bass, peppered with sonar pings, and rhythmic pulsations for sure, but those elements play out more like light desperately trying to escape from a black hole, and that's what Akkord have conjured up, a sonic black hole, crushing, and blackened, dark and yeah, doomy. It took us ages before we could make it past that first track, and while nothing on the rest of the record is nearly as black and bleak, that dark energy definitely surges throughout, or more accurately, oozes. "Smoke Circle" cranks up the rhythm a bit, the feel sort of double dutch, a little tribal, with little blurts of free jazz skitter mixed in, but all draped over another ominous backdrop of low end rumbles, this time accompanied by a cool looped vocal, buried way down in the mix, the vibe undeniable groovy, but with a seriously sinister undercurrent. Some tracks, like "3dOS" get downright house-y, sounding like they wouldn't be out of place on some Kompakt release, but even here, the sound is wreathed in shadow, about as feel-bad as a feel-good music can get, especially when it breaks down into, some swirling, pulsing death dub drifts. "Folded Edge" is another groover, almost jungle-y, but wreathed in creepy slowed down vox, and in the background, all manner of low end warble, and rib cage rattling thrum, the echo drenched vocal snippets dubbed out and psychedelic, the whole thing tripped out and trance-y. The rest of the record offers up variations on Akkord's grim sonic theme, pulsing, motorik rhythms, some house-y, some jungle-y, some techno, all clipped and fragmented, and all sort of shadowy and sinister. The best moments though remain tracks like "Channel Drift", where the beat is a monotonous pulse, buried beneath a sprawl of cinematic shimmer, weird field recorded clatter, all hazy and murky and washed out, it's not until more than halfway through that the beat emerges from the murk, a bit of skittery jungle, that devolves into a woozy lope, or the killer closer "Undertow", another bit of creaking low end grimnity, hauntological for sure, swirling and heavily panned, sounds swooping from speaker to speaker, sounding more like Nurse With Wound via Demdike Stare, some mutant strain of abstract industrial electro-dub minimal murk. So killer. Fans of the Basic House record we made Record Of The Week recently, or Ben Frost, Roly Porter, Demdike Stare, Andy Stott, Vatican Shadow, Silent Servant, all all those various strains of dark mutant electronica, this could very well be your new favorite record. It is ours!

MPEG stream: Torr Vale
MPEG stream: Smoke Circle
MPEG stream: 3dOS
MPEG stream: Folded Edge
MPEG stream: Channel Drift

Switzerland has more to offer the unruly noiseniks than just the Young Gods. Alboth, while having the same sort of pompous air as the Gods, approach their music with a little less bombast. This outing finds them sounding less like a piano fronted Naked City, and more like a computer generated post rock soundtrack, infused with a drug induced paranoia, and an exagerrated sense of otherworldliness. Allan and Andee both recommend this record highly.

Alboth! (yes, the exclamation point is part of their name, and deservedly so) was once known as the Swiss answer to Naked City (replacing Zorn's saxophone squalls with some amazingly fucked piano playing, however). Here they continue in their explorations of sonic extremity. Post-industrial jazzcore progrock? The current lineup dispenses with their signature piano, although there is use of a xylophone, as well as drums, guitar, vocals and electronics. Intense, crazy, like nothing else. But still recommended to fans of Naked City, Ruins, Oxbow, 16-17, etc.

Metalheads are definitely a weird bunch, their likes and dislikes, what is considered true and cult, versus stuff labeled poser or false metal. In some cases it's definitely cut and dried, but in others, there's really no rhyme or reason. For instance, take Depeche Mode. Almost every metalhead we've ever met, loves Depeche Mode. Why? There seems to be no metal connection, other than a sort of darkness or gothiness. Yet, DM remain a fast favorite, with more than a few metal bands covering songs by them as well. Which brings us to Alcest. For the life of us, we can't figure out why these guys are so beloved by black metallers, even the ones who go on about frosty grim kvlt hordes and generally listen to only extreme buzzing blackness, they all seem to love Alcest. Not that there's not plenty to love, it's just Alcest are barely metal at all. Sure there's some harsh vocals now and again, some distorted guitar, even some blast beats but that's about it as far as it goes metalwise. And the thing is, even when Alcest do dip into some blasting blackness, it's more shoegazey and dreamy and washed out and melodic, which speaks to why we love this band so much, their ability to create this glimmering blown out dreampop using tropes usually reserved for musics much more harsh and heavy. This latest record finds the band perfecting their ever evolving formula, merging a sort of depressive melancholic black metal, with total blissed out shoegaze jangle pop. On Ecailles De Lune, even the heaviest moments are infused with an undeniable poppiness, a sort of ethereal dreaminess, that turns this into one of the least likely black metal records ever. The band can be perfectly summed up sonically in the nearly 20 minute two part opening salvo, jangly guitars, hushed vocals, explode into a sort of prismatic shoegaze post pop, all big chords, pounding drums, everything wrapped in a soft psychedelic haze, crooned sad boy vocals, way down in the mix, slow builds to Godspeed like crescendos, angelic female background vocals, lush harmonies, spidery tendrils of minor key guitar, finally within the last minute of the first part, slipping into a buzzing blast, but as mentioned above, it's not so black and grim as if is epic and effulgent and soaring and majestic and beautiful. The second part opens with spare chiming guitars, before some almost actual black metal erupts, a woozy descending minor key melody that quickly shifts into something much more moody with harsh vocals showing up for the first time. It's frenzied and buzzy, but still more dreamy and druggy than black, and then just as quickly as it started, the blackness fades, leaving a loping rhythm, sweet chiming clean guitars, and then the rhythm drops out too, and the song plays out with just a soft tangle of reverby guitar notes and ethereal female vocals. "Percees de Lumiere" begins all Lifelover-y, with swoonsome soaring shoegaze pop and harsh vox, only to splinter into prismatic dreampop partway through, dreamy female vocals over softly churning chords underneath, so nice. "Solar Song" is some sort of Slowdive / Swervedriver / My Bloody Valentine hybrid, warm lush chords, soaring vocal harmonies, a killer main melody, total classic pop wreathed in layers of washed out fuzz and swirling sonic gauze, maybe the 'hit' here if there was gonna be one. An 8+ minute closer might have you expecting a blasting metallic finale, but instead, we're treated to a smoldering sprawl of soft strummed, chiming gloom pop, no drums, just layers of glistening guitars, warm lush vocals, a slow burning chunk or rainy day post-metal dreamfolk balladry. woozy, washed out, hazy, dreamlike and utterly gorgeous. While they last, we've got the limited digi-book packaging version of this fine album.

MPEG stream: Ecailles De Lune - Part 1
MPEG stream: Percees De Lumiere
MPEG stream: Solar Song

New album of unclassifiable, psychedelic death metal from this not-as-well-known-as-they-should-be Australian band. For fans of Neurosis and Voivod! Screechy Cradle of Filth parts meet outback tribal percussion jams, amidst heavy Entombed-style rockin'.

With the release of Freaks In Love, from weirdo New York noise rockers Alice Donut, we realized we had never reviewed a single Alice Donut record. Ever. Most likely because most of them predated the list, but even so, that's no excuse, considering Alice Donut are one of our favorite bands EVER. And we know, it's a little like crying wolf, constantly trumpeting bands and releases as being the best ever, but we have loved, and been borderline obsessed with these guys for almost 25 years, playing every single record to death, seeing them live every time they played in San Francisco, and since they were on Alternative Tentacles, and played here so much, for a while, we just assumed they were an SF band, which really they might as well have been, cuz they were, and are, just the right amount of freaky and heavy, noisy and catchy, and are responsible for some of our favorite jams of the eighties and nineties, and many a mixtape has included at least one AD jam, often their kick ass cover of "War Pigs" with the vocals replaced by TROMBONE! Anyway, recently a documentary about the band came out, and is presented here along with a two disc sort of greatest hits, which for the uninitiated, might just blow your mind, some of the finest weirdo rock EVER. And not just weird, but catchy as fuck to boot. Just check out the samples below for "Egg", and "Mrs Hayes", and "Dorothy", and of course the best titled song ever: "The Son Of A Disgruntled X-Postal Worker Reflects On His Life While Getting Stoned In The Parking Lot Of A Winn Dixie Listening To Metallica". Frontman Tomas Antona has one of the weirdest, coolest voices ever, and the songs, so twisted and weirdly hooky, this stuff sounds as weird and wonderful now as it did the first time we heard it. And while this 'greatest hits' is missing some of our favorites, odds are if you end up digging this, it won't be by half measures, and you'll find yourself tracking down all the records anyway. But the real reason for this release is the documentary, which is actually super entertaining, we even watched it with someone who knew nothing really about Alice Donut, and not only dug the movie, but ended up wanting all the records afterwards. It's a pretty standard rock doc, notable for being super fun to watch, even though there were no deaths, or drugs, or overdoses, as dramatic as it got, was people getting kicked out of the band or tours getting fucked up, but all the band members are super cute and likable, and that only makes the music that much cooler. The packaging is super sweet too, a weird oversized digipak, with a strange fold out triple disc holder, as well as a massive full color booklet, with liner notes and lyrics, and every available surface adorned with Antona's awesomely disturbing illustrations.

MPEG stream: Egg
MPEG stream: Mother Of Christ
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THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.

SORRY. The long overdue return of these Belgian musical miscreants, whose last release, the super limited tape and then not so limited cd Luizig, was a huge favorite around these parts, and why the hell not, a blown out blackened smear of in the red doom dirge weirdness, that we compared to folks like Ash Pool and Akitsa and Ancestors. But that had a lot more to do with the quality of the sound, the timbre and tone, the brutally lo-fi recording, the music itself was much more twisted and blurred and tangled and whatthefuck. For this two song follow up, Alkerdeel change gears pretty dramatically, opening up with nearly 4 minutes of super spare stripped down doom. The guitar distorted, but surprisingly clean by Alkerdeel standards, the drums a simple funereal plod, until finally the vocals swoop in, a hellish shriek, WAY up in the mix, before just as quickly drifting off, leaving the same skeletal doom, but this time, the guitar explores a bit more, more melody, more sprawling ambience, and again, the vocals come in and the track shifts gear into a pounding lo-fi midtempo dirge, all buzzy guitar, stumbly drumming, growled howled vocals, even a stretch of buzzing blastbeat blackness, before fracturing into something more mathy and woozy and off kilter, and for the remainder of the track (a long one at 13 minutes) slipping from super dirgey atonal crawl, to furious frenzy of chaotic buzz, to blurred washed out blackness. Pretty awesome stuff. This time we might add to the above mentioned bands outfits like Moss and Bunkur and the like, much doomier this go round. But then band go and follow up with an Ildjarn cover, total raw and primitive buzz drenched black metal d-beat pound. As crusty and punk rock as it is kvlt and grim, simple pounding drums, hypnotic almost looped sounding riffage, even a sort of double time more punk rock second half, the whole thing laced with perfectly yowled whiskey soaked crusty vokills. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!! We managed to get the last 20, it's already out of print, so once these are gone, they are gone forever. Packaged in a cool mini 3" dvd style plastic clamshell case, full color insert, each one hand numbered of course.

MPEG stream: De Bollaf!
MPEG stream: Natt Og Take - Nattens Ledestjerne (Ildjarn)

We had a handful of customers recommend these fucked up doomdamagemetalnoise weirdos, and around the same time, in some glorious moment of serendipity, the band dropped us a line so we grabbed as many copies as we could of their super limited (only 66 copies) cassette, released on the same label that fellow countrymen Silvester Anfang call home... These Belgians create a serious ruckus, pounding super distorted grim necro ultra raw dirgey droney doom metal, we saw it described as filthyblacksludgedoomdrone which pretty much sums it up. Pounding sludge, with blown out practice space production, grinding guitars, blasting super distorted drums, filthy super sick vocals,�with bursts of blackness and stretches of loping minimal crunch, sort of mathy, very doomy, all very very heavy and noisy and awesome. One of our favorite new bands easy.� Essential for fans of Bone Awl, Ancestors, Ash Pool, Beherit, Akitsa as well as other practitioners of grim buzz and noise drenched sludge... LIMITED TO 66 COPIES!!! In super DIY packaging, printed sleeve, photocopied insert, each tape hand numbered...

I imagine some Thrill Jockey completists will be a little shocked when they throw on this record and discover a super moody, old school hip hop record. But the ones that actually give it a listen will find that once again the unflappable Thrill Jockey followed their own star and have managed to release probably one of the best underground hip hop records so far this year. Dark and intense and with a certain anger and intensity bubbling right below the surface, All Natural manage to take simple old school beats, looped pianos and string swells, and a smooth lyrical intensity, and turn them into a seriously aggressive, totally funky and catchy, kick ass record. Recommended.

RealAudio clip: The Stick Up
RealAudio clip: Think Again

We realized recently, that although we were huge fans of the black metal label Kunsthauch, and the metalheads around here have collections filled with Kunsthauch releases, we had for some reason, never actually reviewed ANYthing on the label. To address that oversight, we got in touch with Kunsthauch directly and are now beginning a campaign to shine some aQ light on some of our favorite Kunsthauch releases, new and old, beginning with this, a compilation from Russian outfit All The Cold, released in 2009 and collecting the group's earliest demos, tracks from various splits as well as a few unreleased songs as well. One Year Of Cold is actually the only proper sort-of-full-length the band has, their catalog being made up entirely otherwise of demos and splits. All it should take is a couple minutes of opener "Last Winter" for you to fall under ATC's wintery spell, trafficking as they do in a sort of cold, frosty ambient black metal, a la Paysage D'Hiver, Alrakis and other aQ faves, and while the band seem to drift and drone and lumber doomily more than actually thrash and blast, it's precisely that slow temp and atmospheric focus that makes these tracks so mesmerizing. "Last Winter" unfurls a blurred hazy blackened dreamscape, that could go on forever, and really, is only barely black metal, before disappearing in a squall of whipping winter winds, only to have some proper black buzz emerge, creeping, a haunting doomy trudge, the melodies wistful and melancholy, floating above a field of washed out warm buzzing thrum, loping and melancholy, and again almost more dark dreampop that black metal, the music box like melody sounds almost like Burzum's "Rundgang Um Die Transzendentale Saule Der Singularitat" if it were in fact an actual black metal jam. "Through The Dead World" offers up more of the same, beginning with some plaintive harpsichord melody, before the guitars come in, all jagged and buzzy and chuggy, and while there seems to be potential for chaotic blackness, the sound instead sprawls and oozes and transforms into a thick black cloud of warm buzz, of pounding slo-mo drum damage, some seriously super distorted demonik vokills, and more of those plaintive melodies. Occasionally the tempo does get cranked up, and in come the blast beats, but weirdly enough, those moments are even LESS heavy, the sound growing more ethereal and washed out, only those wicked vox keeping the sound from floating into some sort of 4AD bliss out dreampop (albeit with blast beats!). And so it goes, wintery and haunting and dreamy, stretches of grim gorgeous blackened buzz interspersed with long expanses of gauzy ambience, and peppered with bits of classical sounding composition, creepy cinematic synthscapery, grim industrial dronemusic, and lovely winter-sun dappled chamber music, all woven into a fantastically frosty and phantasmagoric blackened songsuite. WAY recommended!

MPEG stream: Last Winter
MPEG stream: Through The Dead World
MPEG stream: Coldly To Heart

"Jazzy trip-hop" that's great for making out. The first release on Massive Attack's new label, Melankolic.

NOW ON CD!!! As regular readers of the aQ list no doubt know by now, the current underground indie rock scene is China is blowing up, tons of amazing bands, in both Shanghai AND Beijing, killer record labels, so many incredible records, loads of shows and tours (in fact, Carsick Cars, White+ and others are touring the US right now!), but there are also a ton of American, European and Australian ex-pats in the scene, who have popped up in some aQ faves like Pairs, and now Alpine Decline, two Americans from Los Angeles now living in China, and making some sweet sounds as Alpine Decline. Hard to say where they fit in sonically, but it's definitely a sound we dig. Sort of hazy and druggy, a bit like a slo-mo shoegaze slowcore, loping, droned out noise rock ballads, wreathed in gristly distortion, simple motorik drumming, and wasted zoner vox, ethereal and drifty, the songs slipping from hushed creep, to swirling explosive psychedelia and back again. Just give a listen to opener "Mid-Level Functionary In A Criminal Syndicate", a gorgeous heavy brooder, that should definitely appeal to fans of True Widow and the like, dark and hypnotic, hushed and dreamy, but laced with some dense tripped out noisiness. Some of the tracks are a bit more propulsive, sounding a bit like old Sonic Youth, or some lost Homestead / Touch And Go band, a little bit gloomy and gothy, the guitars jagged and angular, swirling synths underpinning the urgent crush of these brooding jams, the vocals buried in the mix, and doused in reverb and delay, plenty of swagger too, the sound shifting from churning noise rock crunch, to woozy slowcore drift, to spaced out, dream-drone ambience (check out the gorgeous "Hang Around The Creases"), to fuzzy krautpop ("The Transmission Comes Apart"), with plenty of stops in between. We hear hints of other pretty disparate influences too, like Animal Collective, the Wipers, Galaxie 500, a weird concoction, but one that works, and makes AD a good fit with their newly adopted Chinese underground rock brethren, while displaying a distinctly American sonic lineage, that goes all the way back to some of the darker nineties stuff that we loved back then, and still love now. Includes a download code!

MPEG stream: Mid-Level Functionary In A Criminal Syndicate
MPEG stream: The Visions Run
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The latest from Bay Area new-kraut-folk-age combo Alps, finds the band sounding more�high fidelity than ever, and more kraut than folk, which in both cases suits them big time. For those new to Alps, a rundown of several members should help give you an idea of where their sound is coming from: our very own Scott Hewicker (Troll), Alexis Georgopoulos (Arp, formerly of Tussle) and Jefre Cantu (Tarentel, Colophon, J.C. Ledesma). But Alps is definitely more than the sum of its parts, their sound is quite varied, expansive, even epic at times, but simultaneously, they manage to craft a sound simple and solid, based as much on rhythm and texture as on song and melody. On past releases, Alps were a much more ramshackle concern, which at the time was definitely a big part of their sound, and thus set them firmly amongst the lo-fi cd-r drone folks scene, their sound a sort of ghostly Appalachia, mixed with longform drone music, muddy muted ambience, minimal soundscaping and plenty of lo-fi buzz and hiss much of the record mired in a corrosive murk, that only added to their dark dronelike vibe. The move to Type Records, coincides, perhaps not coincidentally, with a sonic shift, where once was abstract and low fidelity, is now rhythmic, and propulsive, looped and repetitive, and most importantly, glistening and glimmering, the sound crystal clear, and this time the dreaminess doesn't come from poor recording, it comes from the compositions, and the arrangements, and a super nice sounding recording courtesy of Phil Manley of the Champs and Trans Am. The core members of Alps also have a keen interest in new age music. Not the Deep Breakfast sort of schlock that most seem to equate with the genre, but instead more the sort of inner space, dreamy drift of Tangerine Dream, Deuter, Steve Hillage and the like. And those sounds are all over III as well. The opener is a gorgeous looped soundscape of repetitive guitar figures, and glistening chimes, almost like a dreamfolk Steve Reich, bits of Appalachia, big buzzing synths, strummed zithers, a gorgeous melancholy melody played out over the course of five and a half minutes. The second track finds the band getting their kraut on, channeling Neu! Or Agitation Free but through a much more washed out and weary space rock, like Hawkwind gone new age. Distant drifting vocals, all manner of layered buzz, distorted guitars buried in the mix, space-y FX, very tranquil and mesmerizing. The follow up "Cloud One" finds Alps revisiting their folk roots, taking strummed acoustic guitars, and simple piano, and draping them over a woozy melody and a super spare abstract rhythm. "Trem Fantasma" is a barely there whisper of spaced out dronemusic, Gloriously wreathed in musical mystery, drifting piano, fragmented guitars, some soft sixties 'ladada' vocals, another dreamy drifter that threatens to spirit the listener away to some sun dappled green grassed knoll. "Labyrinths" is another new age / krautrock meander, washed out and shimmery, the drums the only thing keeping the rest of the song from just floating away, playful melodies, that sound like Perry and Kingsley rendered in shades of grey. The next few tracks are more abstract, sounds swooping in and out, rhythms, if there are any, buried beneath soft layers of sound, everything hushed and minimal, until album closer, "Into The Breeze", which sounds just like the title would have you imagine, breezy, soft focus, the drums, simple and stripped down, shimmering steel string guitar, that ever present piano, the melody wistful, the production hazy and a little woozy, effects swirling in the background, the drums gradually becoming more and more tripped out, before fading out completely, leaving just the guitar and the piano to drift heavenward, through a field of soft shimmer and the glistening afterglow of the sounds that came before. The more we listen to III, the more obvious the new age-isms become, which is not a bad thing at all, it wraps the proceedings, no matter how krautrocky or folky or droney, in a sweet swirl of moonlit dreaminess, turning each song into its own sort of otherworldly mesmer. LIMITED TO ONLY 400 COPIES ON VINYL!!!!! (& the compact disc version is coming soon, but not out yet...)

MPEG stream: A Manha Na Praia
MPEG stream: Hallucinations
MPEG stream: Cloud One

Not to be confused with the Italian Alter Ego who collaborated with Philip Jeck and Gavin Bryars on the recent reinterpretation of Bryars' classic The Sinking Of The Titanic, although come to think of it, it might be pretty amazing to hear THESE guys interpret Bryars' super somber epic. This Alter Ego is from Germany, and they tend to mine similar ground as folks like Justice and Daft Punk, that sort of high energy, dance floor destroying good time techno, lots of heavy buzzy synths, swooping squiggly melodies, bouncing infectious rhythms, fun and funny, goofy and a bit wild. Super playful and funky, but also pretty weird. The opener sounds like a Basement Jaxx instrumental, super fuzzy and groovy, synths snarling all over the place, some awesome fuzzy melodies, but then out of nowhere the track breaks down into this weird stumbling percussive sounding rhythmic stutter, all strange pizzicato strings and arpeggiated beats, hard to explain, completely interrupts the flow, but sounds so perfect anyway, the band effortlessly slip back into, it, only to drop out and do that weird confusional breakdown a few more times. Which is precisely what makes this disc, and these guys so appealing. All of the tracks begin with a similar template. Block rockin beats, fuzzy throbbing synths, woozy melodies, bits of dubstep, dancehall and techno, all wound up weirdly tangled electro / techno hybrids, but then things get all wonky, in a very good way, some tracks get all epic and majestic, the synths swelling into huge grandiose melodies, others fall apart into angular new wave freakouts, some sound like experimental synth jams, others end up super minimal, like some squiggly slightly tweaked take on the Kompakt sound. On the surface, this stuff will totally hit the spot for anyone into any of the abovementioned bands, folks who want to just hit the dancefloor and get totally lost. But for those of us with an aversion to the dancefloor, but who still dig dance music, this shit is thick and heavy, layered and off kilter, weird and cool and just a bit fucked, without ever losing its groove.

MPEG stream: Why Not?!
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A couple years ago, we discovered a musical gem someone had dropped by the store which had sat unnoticed for awhile until it finally caught the eye of AQ staffer Andrew. It was a double cd-r set of coldly seductive improvised instrumental synthscapes called Tripping The Dark Fantastic, by a little known five member group from Scotland called Altres. Most of their music was recorded in 1983-84 and released in limited cassette runs. The band went on hiatus in '85 but has since reformed 17 years later! We described the group's sound like this: "Altres manage to recall some of the best things throughout the history of electronic music as well as some of the hazier realms of rock n' roll (their website lists Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Philip Glass, Throbbing Gristle, Faust, the Doors, and the Church as influences; at various times we also picked up on Cluster, Heldon, Popul Vuh, and Zombi's coked out disco side), but the end sound is clearly their own. The songs effortlessly ooze deep, krauty melodies with a sustained and cinematic ambience, and when they break out the drum machines things can head into high speed Moroder territory, always a good thing." After we reviewed it, we ended up selling a ton of 'em. Well, that review was noticed by Dark Entries label head honcho and aQ pal Josh Cheon, who became a fan and got in contact with Altres, and now 30 years after the band was formed they finally have made their vinyl debut! Archives selects seven of the best tracks from their five cassette releases. For those thinking there may be a lot of overlap between this record and the 2cd-r set, fear not. There is in fact only one song, "Icefield" that's on both releases, which we initially described as a darkly unsettling interlude that makes you think of, yes, ice fields, and probably some foreboding windowless compound as well. Coming at the end of side one, it's a great connecting piece between the two sides, showcasing the rest of the killer new-to-us material. It's really quite special to see some attention being paid to this ambitious but short-lived group, who managed to sound both cold and melodic, cinematic and claustrophobic, robotic and utterly human. The sheer array of equipment used on these recordings is staggering as well and enough to make any synth geek salivate: Casio MT40 Moog Prodigy, EDP Wasp, Roland SH-101, Casio VL-Tone, Korg MS20, MS50, SQ10 Poly-61, Ibanez guitar and vocoder. All of the instruments are fed through various effects and echo units and yet, amazingly everything is played and recorded live - there are no overdubs - which is pretty incredible to think about as so much of their work is so complex and rich that an extraordinary amount of musicianship seems to be at play to bring forth such strong compositions. The pieces here are less minimal wave than one would expect, but instead seem to come through as a hybrid of provocative pulsating kraut-inflected atmospheres, Moroderic overdrive, a futuristic foreboding and cinematic robotic woe. We're reminded at times, of Geoff Barrow and Ben Salisbury's recently rejected score for the new Judge Dredd reboot, which gets played a ton in the store, especially on the second track, "Panic". Of course there's been no shortage of synth-worshippers past and present that we could compare this to, but there is something so stirringly visual about Altres' music that makes it beautifully all its own, probably stemming from the fact that when this music was made, the members didn't have a quarter of the contextual relationships with similar music and movements that we can easily nowadays connect them with. We're proud to have been instrumental in the group's rediscovery, and we hope more folks discover them because of this record. The vinyl comes housed in a neon green jacket featuring the original design from the "Rise" cassette by Mike Nelson. Each lp includes a photocopied clear acetate with unreleased photos and notes for each song. Fantastic!

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Finally, the first full length from these mysterious French post black metal krautrock alchemists. And if you think calling a band French post black metal krautrock alchemists might be overdoing it, you haven't hear Aluk Todolo. An offshoot of black metal horde Diamatregon (who have one record on tUMULt, and another one coming soon), this trio, just guitar, bass and drums, are most definitely alchemists, working some sort of ancient magic, turning the simplest of rock band instrumentation, into something massive and mysterious, heavy and haunting, brutal and mesmerizing, repetitive and motorik. Crafting songs, that manage to be both pieces, in the classical sense, abstract and intellectual collections and arrangements of sound, subtle shadings, tonal color and timbre, harmony and dissonance, and SONGS, in the rock sense, fucking kick ass jams, that seem to go on forever, killer riffs, and relentless head nodding rhythms, like krautrock, only heavier and darker and way way blacker. Like black metal but without all the buzz and howl, stripped down to its very essence, to just mood and rhythm, ambience and propulsion. In the review of the previous 7" we described the band's sound as: Ominous krautrock rhythms over Einsterzende style industrial clatter, some lost seventies psych rock holy grail channeled through modern post rock. Dreamy and dark and mesmerizing. Hypnotic guitar lines and simple shuffling rhythms that build into clattery propulsive jams, all clanging angular riffs and dense tangled drumming. VERY This Heat like, and reminiscent of the late great Laddio Bolocko. Some sort of dangerous and mysterious postrock / krautrock hybrid, lo-fi but thick and dense and amazingly heavy. And the full length essentially still sounds like that, but having loosed themselves from the shackles of the way too brief 7" format, the band can take all those elements, and lay them out, an epic massive post rock, krautrock, dronerock, experimental post black metal sprawl. These are the kinds of songs and sounds that need space, and time, need to lull the listener in, to entrance, ensorcel, the rhythms are stripped down and repetitive, looped and hypnotic, simple, but surprisingly and subtly complex at the same time. It's not hard to hear other hypno rockers in Aluk Todolo's sound, Circle, Salvatore and the like, but also space rock masters of repetition, Hawkwind, The Heads, and of course krautrock legends Can and Faust. Especially Can, with their focus on the power of the rhythm, no mater how seemingly simple or plain. But more than anything, it's legendary UK experimentalists This Heat whose, haunting mysterious rhythmic influence is all over Descension. The opening track is the heaviest, a brutal slab of in the red distorted riffage, the actual riffs barely discernible, more like a heaving mass of crumbling distortion and space rock FX, but the rhythms that frame the whole record are already in place, pounding steadily beneath the buzz and skree. A head nodding pulse underpinning the swirling distorted clouds above. A bracing and white hot burst of blackdronekrautpsych that has the speakers rattling for all of its 8+ minutes. But that track mostly serves as an intro to the complex and moody rhythmic sprawl that makes up the other three tracks. "Burial Ground" begins with what sounds like a slowed down This Heat rhythm track synched up to the free abstract drift of legendary seventies dronepsych collective Taj Mahal Travellers. The drums unwavering, but the background constantly in flux, swaths of black buzz, brief flurries of chaotic FX, distant low end swells, haunting fragmented melodies, a gorgeous spare kraut rock jam dropped into the abyss. "Woodchurch" is a dense wall of high end buzz, all swirling distorted hum and keening feedback, tones all tangled up, a chordal wash of tuned vacuum cleaners, a sort of Sunroof! Style urdrone, but beneath it, the simplest of bass lines, distorted and downtuned, a heartbeat like throb, only a handful of notes, just enough to tie into the even simpler drum part, just kick drum and snare, a two step tattoo, as completely mesmerizing as it us utterly simple. The background buzz, swaying and pulsing, like some massive black sea, or clouds of insects ravaging a blighted sonic landscape. The disc closes with "Disease" which opens with an ultra heavy slide guitar, unfurling a slow motion blues riff, caked in black buzz and thick distortion, the notes left to hang, ringing out until the tones slowly transform into feedback, immediately being swallowed up by the riff right behind it. It's like Robert Johnson playing SUNNO))), and then suddenly, the sound shifts, and the band reverts to its murky trawl, a thick throbbing bass line, another Can like rhythm, guitars warm and warbly, more like a layer of wet fuzz than distinct riffing, but occasionally, bits of that opening salvo return, offering up brief blasts of speaker destroying crunch, or brief bits of grinding buzz, a sudden start that almost, but doesn't quite wake you from your soporific reverie. Near the end, the distorted slide guitar returns, and drums drop out, and the track finishes with a thick coda of pealing guitar roar and shimmering chordal drone� Intense and hypnotic and heavy and fucking genius. Ritualistic sounds, both black and brilliant, pulled from the void, a mysterious and sonic netherworld. Definite contender for record of the year.

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It's been two long years we've been waiting for this, another mysterious rhythmic communique from French blackened post krautrock alchemists Aluk Todolo. But it's not like they've been idle. Since 2007's Descension, two thirds of Aluk Todolo have recorded a record and toured the world as Gunslingers, and all of Aluk Todolo do double duty in French black metallers Diamatregon, who recently released a new full length on tUMULt called Crossroad. But as much as we love those other two bands, and we do, there will always be something magical about the strange sonic world Aluk Todolo are able to conjure up. Especially considering they're a three piece, a power trio, drums, guitar, bass. Nothing else, no synths, no strings, just the basic rock band instruments. It's testament to the power these three wield, that they can do so much with so little. Or more accurately, so little with so little. As the music of Aluk Todolo, is disarmingly simple, subtle and minimal, but in its minimalism, lies its power. The power of rhythm, of texture, of mood, these five long pieces are so evocative, so expressive and strangely emotional. Even at its most spare and skeletal, the sound is palpable, almost a physical presence, which is surprising again considering just how stripped down Finsternis actually is. Descension, Aluk Todolo's debut, was heavy and space-y and rhythmic, we described it as a buzz-less black metal, some of the songs were thick and caustic, others were loping and motorik, but on Finsternis, it's as if the band decided to strip away all the extraneous sounds, leaving just the core, the root, the heart of the music, and that heart beats out a simple, hypnotic rhythm. The record is split into 4 parts, with a brief interlude, but those four parts are split into two distinct movements. The first, which comprises the first two parts, is much of what we described above, simple skeletal rhythms, surrounded by minimal guitar whir, bursts of grinding distortion, fragmented jangle, keening feedback, but it's all about the rhythm. After a brief burst of mathy chaos, the track reverts to its initial rhythm, this time the bass more prominent, fuzzy, distorted, woozy and mesmerizing, the band locked in tight, the bass and drums solid and unwavering, while the guitar sings in the background, moaning and keening and howling, giving the track an ominous otherworldly vibe, a trudge across some hostile alien landscape, a weary, washed out deathmarch. Then the interlude, a haunting abstract percussive sprawl, simple percussive thuds set amidst a sea of warped distorted low end, bits of glitch and hiss, and grinding shards of industrial clatter, which gives way to the second, noisier movement, the drums transformed into a simple machinelike pound, snare and cymbal crashing over and over and over, the guitars whipped into a frenzy of blurred buzz and warped swirling blackened chaos, what at first sounds noisy and harsh, soon reveals itself as strangely textural, and as hypnotic as the more stripped down first movement, the guitars slip from monochromatic whir, to insectoid black metal riffing, constantly swirling around the motorik pound and pummel, the final track finds the guitars slipping into ever higher registers, blissing out, laced with feedback, smoothing out into warm smears and blurs, before a brief deconstruction, and a surprisingly tranquil last few minutes, the drums back to a woozy lope, the guitar offering up warm swells and shimmering thrum, the bass throbbing beneath, eventually stumbling to a halt in a cloud of creaking metals and static-like tape hiss. Woah. Just like Descension, Finsternis is an intense and emotional journey through sound, a haunting and hard to describe exploration of rhythm, mood and texture, a slow shifting otherworld defined by This Heat, Geronimo, Laddio Bolocko, Can, Faust, accessible only via the three shadowy figures that make up Aluk Todolo, whose magic and mystery has been rendered in these glorious black rhythms. Housed in a multi panel jacket with super striking original artwork by Stephen Kasner, on the always impressive Utech label (whose other two new releases, from Gog and Olivier Dumont, we'll review on the next list, although we do have both in stock if you want 'em, and we're fairly sure you do!).

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The latest from aQ beloved occult rockers Aluk Todolo begins sounding like a black metal This Heat, and it only gets better from there. These metallic minimalists from France are masters at maximizing their instrumental guitar/bass/drums assault, taking what most bands uses to make some regular old rock and roll, and instead weave lush, elaborate rhythmscapes, unleash throbbing sprawls of textured and nuanced noise, create math-metal in the guise of dark psych, and conjure psychedelic krautrock in the form of barely harnessed black buzz. Like on previous releases, the music here is less about songs and more about movements, and movement - fiendishly deft arrangements of sound, like miniature black symphonies. It's hard to articulate just what Aluk Todolo do, cuz honestly it's kind of difficult to even understand it. From a purely sonic standpoint, all analysis and deep digging set to the side, the music is pure, organic, and emotional. It's dark, but not theatrically, or even introspectively, so. It's a constantly shapeshifting musical chimera, seemingly always more than what it seems, moody and mesmeric, melodic and measured, unhinged and chaotic, heavy and hellish, delicate and abstract, jazzy and atmospheric. The drums are just as often used to create textures as they are rhythms, while moments surface throughout that sound like some lost Goblin soundtrack, sometimes morphing into a brief moment of almost Van Halen worthy riffery, other times blurring into tension filled stretches of blackened mesmer. Some tracks sound like Australian jazz minimalists the Necks covering Motorhead, some sound like Godspeed You Black Emperor tripping on acid and amphetamines, the moody broodiness of that group whipped up into a cloud of pulsing, chaotic black energy. This record in particular is their least metal so far, and maybe the jazziest, the drums are in constant motion, with frenzied skitter giving way to abstract shuffles, the bass too, no simple basslines, dense tangle and knots of sound, the rhythm section somehow impossibly, inhumanly tight, yet totally loose at the same time, balancing on a razor thin line between composition and collapse, and it's the constant push and pull that makes every moment fraught with energy and emotion, passion and pathos. And that's not to say there is no metal, the band effortlessly rip into jagged shards of downtuned crush, and furious frenzied riffing without batting an eye, but contextually, those moments seem to be more about evoking a certain feeling, or reaching a certain musical destination, but with the idea that this whole record, and arguably this whole band, is entirely and utterly about the journey. Every song here could be stretched out forever, and as a listener, we would not hesitate to let ourselves get sucked in, and LISTEN forever. And ever. The energy of Aluk Todolo is transcendental, a concept that if removed from sound would seemingly exist beyond human comprehension, but here, delivered as pure, instrumental, sonic energy, it takes on a form we understand, and fundamentally enjoy, a sound that touches on many other sounds near and dear to our hearts, and souls, but it's the arrangement, the composition, the delivery, the power, the depth, the ineffable otherworldliness that transforms this divine musical message from the great beyond, into something that speaks directly to us, in a language we all understand.

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We love Alva Noto. His minimal rhythmic soundscapes are just so fantastic, dense and complex but at the same time impossibly simple and spare. And everything he does is so high concept. But in a way, that's not obvious just listening to the music. This may be art, high concept art, but the resulting sounds transcend art, and become music, and grooves, pleasing to the ear, not only the mind.� Unitxt is Alva Noto's (aka Carsten Nicolai) return to 'the rhythm' after a handful of releases (in several different series) that were much more esoteric and ambient. Unitxt is still pretty ridiculously high concept, with the songs developed through various methods: one song is a portrait of Nicolai converted into sound, another is based on the golden ratio, a recitation of an endless row of numbers, another is based on a reading of the various items in Nicolai's wallet, credit cards, business cards, notes, just reading the words and numbers and converting the resulting information into sound. Endlessly amusing for sure, but it wouldn't mean shit if the music was bad. Thankfully, this is exactly the stuff we love from Nicolai, super clinical machine like soundscapes of skitter and glitch. everything sharp and clipped, the grooves far from funky, at least in the normal sense, but VERY funky in some sort of fucked up futuristic minimal robot dancefloor way. A few of the tracks feature vocals, but they're in German, and spoken quickly and rhythmically, making them less like lyrics and more like another overlaid rhythm (especially when the voice is just reciting numbers). Imagine a huge white glass cube filled with robots, all hunkered over computers and drum machines, and synthesizers and equalizers, everything totally automated, huge gears turning, machines pulsing, the robots locked into the same motion over and over, a strange assembly line. At the end, a tiny speaker, facing a huge empty grassy field, a blue sky, nothing in the sky but a single white cloud. Perfectly ovoid. Out of the speaker comes this. That's what we imagine when we listen to Unitxt. Stripped down, cool and clinical outer space future robot anti-funk, laced with plenty of sculpted buzz and crackle, and shaped from bits of hiss and crunch.� Tacked on to the end of the record, are a whole series of fragments and sound sources, each created from transforming an image or information into sound. These are 'Source Code Solos' to be played over the other tracks, or might assume, that with these sounds, and your own giant robot manned glass cube sound factory, you could make your very own Unitxt!

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Part two of Alva Noto's Xerrox series takes up right where the last one left off, continuing on in a much more buzzy, blissy, droney vein, way more textural and melodic than many of the AN records that have come before. In the review of volume one we mentioned Pop Ambient, and if anything volume 2 is even more washed out and shimmery, right out of the gate, AN offers up a warm wash of muted buzz, and thick gristly whir, softly pulsating, layered and warm, seemingly gone are the harsh tones and glitchy clicks and pops found on most Raster-Noton releases. Could be that Xerrox is just a concept record, but we have to say, as much as we loved the clipped minimalism of other Alva Noto records, the sounds here are quite divine. But this is an Alva Noto record, so even these warm whirls of drifting ambience, are laced with bits of static and hiss, super high end sine waves, but they're woven deftly into the sound, and serve to simply add more texture. There's a brief bit of super minimal beep and rumble, but then it's right back into that gorgeous drifty haze, that could just as soon be a Tim Hecker record. "Xerrox Meta Phaser" follows suit, at least in the beginning, a soft whirring soundscape, that quickly escalates into an almost Sunn like dirge before exploding into a squall of blown out white noise. And then we're back to the dreamy dronemusic, this time, stretched out strings, smeared into soft summery swells, laced with a patina of gritty hiss, and so it goes, the whole record is a dark swirling expanse of muted minimal melodies, warm textures, mysterious drones, and delicate hazy drifts, the usual glitch and buzz, relegated to accents and filigree, rarely interfering in the rest of the record's blissy sprawl. Any one of these tracks would be right at home on the newest, more Kranky-fied Pop Ambient comp, and thus, this might be the first Raster-Noton record that might just appeal to all the drone and dirge folks as much as the glitch and pop people. Like all R-N stuff, gorgeously designed and packaged, an oversized diecut, 8 panel sleeve, the cd nestled within the diecuts, the art spare and minimal and striking.

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It used to be, not a New Arrivals list would go by without some wonderful, weird new music from aQ pal Antony Milton, but lately, those release have been fewer and further between, so we've begun to treasure each one just a little bit more, not knowing how long it'll be 'til the next. We've long been fans of Milton's mercurial soundmaking, whether it be abstract ambience under his own name, or in any number of outfits making dark, psychedelic heaviness. So we weren't sure what to expect this time around, but Dragonfly ends up being a good fit for the Trensmat label, and their shift toward electronic music, albeit, of the noisier and more abstract/avant variety. Much like countryman Campbell Kneale (Our Love Will Destroy The World, Birchville Cat Motel), Milton has added beats to his sonic palette, creating a strange hybrid of NZ noise, and twisted techno, or warped house music? It doesn't mater what you call it really, and it's much different than Kneale's more electronic noise, the sound here still seems to be rooted in guitar, and has a distinctly krautrock feel, while the opener is all gristly high end, and loping rhythm, a sort of noisy kosmische space noise, it's on the title track where things seem to coalesce, the sound like some weird Sublime Frequencies style desert blues, that sort of looped buzzy riffage, wreathed in billowing clouds of FX heavy electric noise, soaring gouts of raga-like skree, and psych shred tangles, we're hearing hints of Gunter Schickert for sure, and as we say all the time, we would have been perfectly happy if the 5 minute title track was stretched out to full up the whole record. Total kraut-noise space-raga bliss out. But fear not, there's plenty more where that came from. "Glassworld" is all dubby and abstract, a buried rhythm pulses beneath looped layers, and soft focus shimmers, muted sonic squalls, blurred into gauzy chordal washes, heady and hypnotic. "Helioscope" ditches the beats almost entirely, transforming the sound into something closer to Pop Ambience, hazy swells, over distant pulsations, dreamy, drifty and druggily drowsy. The final proper track is a grinding field of low end buzz and crunchy sci-fi lazer-pulses, all wrapped in fields of Geiger counter crackle, briefly ditching all the skree and leaving just muted minimal bass thrum, only to have the sound erupt again in a flurry of swirled FX and blurred buzzy noise. The final track is live, and stretches out over 13 minutes, and returns to the kraut-psych sound of the title track, the synths gristly and granular, peppered with swirls of smoother shimmer, all draped over a heartbeat like pulse, dreamily cosmic, before a mid song/set shift transforms the sound into something much darker, and noisier, a gritty minimal noise-techno that explodes into one final burst of white noise howl. Includes a download code!!!

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We'll just have to assume that AM stands for Antony Milton, head of Pseudo Arcana. This disc starts off with a three part piece, the sounds of passing traffic, buzzing insects, whirring fans, and sort of lowercase drones with the occasional percussive intrusion of a bumped microphone, or distant clatter. Eventually, strange otherworldly notes are introduced, sounding a bit like horns without reeds, more sound than actual notes, but they manage to add miniscule amounts of soothing melody. Part two sounds like a version of part one, only far away, and with the sound of crickets, that slowly evolves into a buzzing swarm. Part three sounds like a version of part two, but with the addition of doleful lonely melodies played on a bamboo flute. Sounds like some overheard, ancient ceremony being performed fireside. Track 2 is all casio bleeps and blips, that demarcate a warbly uneven synth drone, all dreamy and effevescent. Sounds a bit like a more lo-fi Boards Of Canada. The final track is a noisy assemblage of dissonant clatter and barely discernable melody, tape hiss, and a wild spray of notes and tones, like a Total or Gate record falling apart, slowly deconstructing before your ears. Nice.

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Never heard of the oddly monikered Ama-Dots? Neither had we. But apparently this experimental post punk outfit from Milwaukee, having formed in the seventies, releasing their only proper single in 1980, were poised for greatness, having opened for Captain Beefheart, Sun Ra, Gang Of Four, even the Talking Heads, but somehow these guys were WAY weirder, just check out "Luxury With Her" the first track on this lp reissue of everything the group ever recorded. It's a filthy, grimy, loping bass driven creep, all low slung bass, woozy riffage, a lurching stop/start arrangements, some angular guitar scrape, some sample baby cries (?!) and some of the coolest, creepiest female vocals EVER, a raspy sort of growly croon, it's dark and weirdly groovy, sinister and seriously tense/intense. But Ama-Dots weren't all doom and gloom, their 'hit' "Hit Girls" is all angular and frantic, with super dramatic vox, over spidery guitar melodies, and a frenetic rhythm, a super distinctive call and response chorus, the sort of female fronted punk that was in short supply, and definitely struck a chord with the girl punks. Frontwoman Boolah Hayes has the craziest voice, the music is pretty cool and weird, but when coupled with her deep raspy vocals, sometimes swopping into something super dramatic, putting on all manner of made up accents, but just as often slipping into a demonic growl or a feral bellow, transforming some of the sounds here into near metal, like some crazy female death metal vocalist found her way into an eighties post punk combo, making for some seriously kick ass, and super unique post punk, weird that this stuff has taken this long to get a proper reissue, but holy shit is this stuff great. And did we mention weird? This collects the group's only 7" release, a lost EP, as well as unreleased demos and some live material, the studio stuff recorded by the legendary Ian Burgess (Big Black, Ministry, Effigies, etc.), pressed on swirled gold vinyl, housed in a super striking jacket, and includes a full color printed insert, with rare photos, liner notes and accounts of the group from friends, fans and writers.

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Another underground superstar collaboration. This time Aussie guitarist Oren Ambarchi, the Stephen O'Malley half of SUNNO))), as well as one of the Master Musicians Of Bukkake, Randall Dunn, got together to conjure up a gorgeously spooky alternative score to a film by Alexis Destoop called Kairos, as is often the case, we've yet to see the film, but the music on its own is pretty great. As you might imagine from the lineup, it's all shades of dark and ominous, sinister and menacing, haunting and atmospheric, from swirling flurries of glitchy electronics, to drowsy, twang flecked, Earth-like crawls, caked in gristle and grit, thrumming swells of industrial rumble, and dense billows of chordal shimmer, some moments dark and jazzy, others cosmic and dreamy, still others driving and droney. There are some heavy moments for sure, the second side/movement takes the skitter of the first and adds some rhythmic muscle, as well as some thick sheets of crumbling buzz, creating what almost sounds like a drone metal Necks, but laced with more psychedelia and some buried almost-Eastern sounding melodies, like a blurry, melting raga wrapped around some gristled/grizzled slow core. After that, the sound gets a bit more mystical and abstract, much like Dunn's Master Musicians, spaced out drifts, hushed and haunting, but only briefly, before blossoming into wild, percussion heavy psychedelic freakout. Japanese psych chanteuse Ai Aso contributes some dreamy vocals on the second half of side 3, transforming the sound into a hushed, psychedelic torch song, before returning to the drone and buzz for the sprawling final movement, gorgeous arcs of warm guitarbuzz and moaning, droning tones, layered and lush, drifting drowsily, almost like all the instruments are gradually detuning, the shimmery dreamlike drift, fading, darkening, and blackening into an almost SUNNO)))-like slo-mo finale.

Awesome reissue of this seminal crust classic. Heavy and noisy and brilliant. Includes 2 bonus tracks!

When we first got this in, we were convinced it was some reissued lost psychedelic gem from the sixties or seventies. From the blurry red and black cover, the dearth of information, and heck it's on Locust, a label well known for killer reissues. So we threw it on, and we were still convinced, although we were blown away by its raw feral blown out psychedelic poppiness. Were there really bands making this sort of inspired and drug fueled racket 30 or 40 years ago? Perhaps, but Amen Dunes wasn't one of them. No, Amen Dunes is apparently the work of one man, a guy called Damon McMahon, who spent an extended stretch holed up in his house in the Catskills (although apparently now, he's holed up in his new house, in CHINA!) channeling some serious demons, and creating a brain melting, warped and distorted, fucked up and freaked out psychedelic classic. There are definitely hints of the new wave of noise rock, all that shit gaze stuff, and lo-fi garage, Eat Skull, Psychedelic Horseshit, Wavves, Oh Sees, etc, but Amen Dunes' sound is much more old school, going all the way back to drugged out sonic visionaries like Roky Erickson and George Brigman and the like. Super distorted, everything doused in reverb and delay and distortion, the recording super lo-fi, tape hiss all over the place, murky and muddy, and gloriously fuggy, the vocals slipping from feral shriek, to swoonsome moan, to almost Beach Boys like croon, but even at their most melodic, they remain a bit off kilter, slightly ominous, the rantings of some inspired lunatic right on the edge. The music is rough and raw, but catchy as hell, guitars buzz and jangle, detuned into bizarre Eastern sounding modalities or whipped up into a frenzied squall of Hendrixian freakout. The bass is a huge part of the sound too, rubbery and warm, thick and undulating, sometimes just offering up a layer of deep rumble, other times creating some truly haunting melodic counterpoint. The drums are simple and sporadic, a shuffling pound, a minimal skitter, a loose rickety framework for the Dunes' constantly-on-the-verge-of-collapse echo drenched drone pop, a sort of chilled out Dead C vibe permeates the proceedings as well, a way more damaged and even more druggy Velvets vibe too, all of this shit through with some old timey folkiness, it's a bit of a hodge podge, but it works. The fractured looped psych drone weirdness of "Fleshless Esta Mira Wife Of Spades" is followed by the almost countryish "Patagonian Domes", before the woozy atonal Supreme Dicks worship of "By The Bridal", with some serious shades of Neutral Milk Hotel (we kid you not). The rest of the record is equally as tripped out and all over the place, while managing to sound like an actual record, not just a collection of songs. "White Lace" is a gorgeous chunk of softly strummed murk, with super catchy vocals, layers of hiss and buzz, and a smattering of strange electronics, "Castles" is total Laurel Canyon country folk, but infused with just a little more pathos, the vocals a super gorgeous, on the verge of cracking wail, the hand claps, shakers and simple strumming underpinned by a warm wheezing organ. A handful of the songs sound almost Beatles-esque, super classic jangly pop, just barely psychedelic, with the guitars subtly warped, but the killer hooks totally intact, and then the record closes with "Breaker", maybe one of the most moving and intense tracks on the record, the musical accompaniment, minimal, simple softly strummed guitar, and some soft organ shimmer, but the vocals, so impassioned and emotional, raw and way up front, melodic and intense, howling and wailing, with multiple voices multitracked into a gorgeous wavery, fractured two part harmony, that ends up sounding like some sort of outsider gospel music. Totally inspirational, mind blowing, rocking, catchy, darkly mysterious... Easily one of our favorite records of the year so far!!

MPEG stream: Amen Dunes
MPEG stream: Miami Beach
MPEG stream: Fleshless Esta Mira Wife Of Space
MPEG stream: Patagonian Domes
MPEG stream: Breaker

Previous records from Amen Dunes, aka Damon McMahon, have been twisted collections of avant outsider folk, the skeletal songsmithery balanced by an experimental streak a mile wide. Even the prettiest songs on those records were buried in sonic murk, and consequently, hushed, delicately strummed ballads were generally stretched way out into spacey sprawls of abstract sound and wreathed in musique concrete filigree. On Love, however, McMahon seems to have ditched much of that weirdness in favor of crafting some straight up, almost baroque sounding, extremely lush and lovely folk/pop, that on first listen was almost too straight ahead, but gradually, with repeated listens, revealed itself as something much more, a truly and subtly dark little gem. The almost orchestral opener "White Child" combines simple strummed guitars, and achingly crooned vocals, all over a lustrous, undulating backdrop of moaning horns and woozy strings. While at first blush, it seemed that there's much unabashed Dylan worship going on, the record quickly blossoms into something much more mysterious, the production reverby and echo drenched, McMahon's super distinctive vocals sounding better than ever, the music too, deceivingly simplistic sounding, but rich with subtle nuance, and lushly layered, a softly swirling morass of psychedelic shimmer, and slow crawl dream pop balladry, blurred into a subtly mutated strain of spaced out, haunting and otherworldly alternative universe psych folk drift.

MPEG stream: White Child
MPEG stream: Lonely Richard
MPEG stream: Spirits Are Parted

Newest record from Damon McMahon, aka Amen Dunes. His first record, Dia, we made a Record Of The Week, describing it as sounding like some lost psychedelic gem from the Sixties, and the second Amen Dunes record, Murder Dull Mind, was more of the same, gloriously haunting, outsider bedroom psych, channeling the spirit of Syd Barrett and Skip Spence, a mysterious otherworldly folk-pop artifact steeped in druggy atmosphere and loosed from traditional folk music tropes, resulting in haunting sonic ritualism that seemed to exist out of time. This latest record is a logical extension of its two predecessors, and if anything, it seems to be the poppiest of the bunch. Right from the start, "Baba Yaga" had us expecting something WAY more far out, but instead, it's a gorgeous slab of soaring folk pop, all sun dappled and dreamy, with some surprisingly powerful vocals, all wound up in blurry shimmer, and what sounds like tangled strings or heavily effected harmonicas, either way, it might be the best proper 'song' McMahon has come up with yet. And much of the record follows suit, taking the early Pink Floydisms and mixing those up with some Byrds-y twang, some Grateful Dead jamminess, all blurred into a hazy chunk of lost Sixties folk pop. We can even hear some early Bee Gees, some Zombies, some truly gleefully twisted classic pop moments mixed in (check out "Not A Slave", which sounds like it could have been some alternate universe hit), which makes Through Donkey Jaw a surprisingly catchy record. And we have to say it definitely suits them (him?). Not sure if it was a conscious decision, or a natural progression, but this record is most definitely about songs first, that said, the sounds those songs are created with, are pretty impressive, a dead ringer for records of the era, but here and there some strange synth, or some odd bit of production will give it away as something more modern that it purports to be. And there's still plenty of experimentalism going on, it's just more subtle, either whole non-song-tracks, or subtly woven in amidst the hooks and weirdly proper verse chorus verse arrangements. The vocals are woozy and laid back, wreathed in soft effects, but still much more of a driving force than on past records, the sound shifting easily from jangle pop to gloom folk, tripped out psychedelia to jammy psych rock without batting an eye, and managing to make it all hang together like a proper record. The final track (a bonus track) is titled "Tomorrow Never Knows". Is it a cover of THAT song? It's actually hard to tell, but what we do know is that it's one of the most gloriously far out moments on the record, a dark brooding bit of rhythmic propulsive krautrock, laced with pounding piano, swirls of distorted guitar crunch, bleating horns, shards of feedback, wild tribal freakouts, after the otherwise song oriented psychedelic folk pop of the preceding thirteen tracks, it's a pretty unexpected, fantastic, and sonically unhinged finale.

MPEG stream: Baba Yaga
MPEG stream: Lower Mind
MPEG stream: Swim Up Behind Me
MPEG stream: Tomorrow Never Knows

We had sort of given up on ever getting this in stock, which was killing us. One of our favorite records of last year (one of Andee's top 10), a record some of us listened to EVERY DAY, over and over. Heavy and buzzy, but so beautiful and relentlessly catchy. Sure we've had black metal records in the past that were 'pretty'. Catchy too. But those records took their hooks and their soaring melodies and wrapped them all up in spiky blackness, subtly catching our ear beneath all the buzz, the prettiness more a byproduct than a reason for being. But Amesoeurs are completely different. It's almost like some shoegazey, indie druggy drone rock band decided their blissed out indie jangle needed more, well, BLACKNESS, and thus enlisted a corpsepainted frontman, with a demonic banshee shriek, to wail and gnash his teeth over the band's nearly perfect buzzing pop. From the first notes of the opener "Bonheur Ampute" you're hooked. If you didn't know what was playing, you'd probably be thinking it was some lost Swervedriver track, or some modern band channeling My Bloody Valentine and Ride. The music is that gorgeous. The guitars are thick and heavy, a little buzzy, but they glisten and sparkle, and well, jangle. The opening riff is so impossibly catchy, sort of minor key, but only barely, this is simply perfect pop music wrapped in a thin layer of buzzing blackness. There's no denying it. A loping riff, underpinned by strummed acoustic guitar, while over the top guitars keen and soar, melodies intertwine, harmonies drift and shimmer, even the black metal shriek starts to transform into something less evil becoming more just another element of the blissy poppy buzz. Near the end of the first track, all the other instruments drop out leaving just the acoustic guitar, and when the band kicks back in, they go for it, transforming the track into some otherworldy buzzpop, that original riff ringing out, but over the top some gorgeously melodic underwater, blooping Pinback like bass lines and soaring angular guitar melodies. The second track begins with a haunting spidery Slinty guitar line, minor key and skeletal, hovering in a wide open expanse of dark shimmer, when the band lurches into action, the main riff sounds like some classic Maiden hook, transformed into a loping pop song, the band eventually ramp it up, the drums becoming a double kicking blast, the vocals shrieking, but the main melody remains and the song becomes a haunting emotional minor key buzz drenched slab of shoegazer black metal, complete with acoustic breakdowns and a mysterious percussive coda. The final track opens up with another gorgeous tangled bit of clean guitar, that turns into straight up clean ringing indie jangle, but surprises us with ethereal female vocals, which transform it into some nineties sounding dark pop like Velocity Girl or something. Eventually, a buzzing guitar joins the fray, and by the end, it's another swirling blackened slab of blissed out buzz. So fucking awesome. Black metal record of the year! Of forever! And that's assuming that this even counts as black metal... Either way, this is absolutely essential. Black metalheads don't be put off by the prettiness, we love us some Antaeus and Katharsis and Darkthrone and all that, but this is just so goddamn good. And all you indie rock mix tape makers, try blowing somebody's mind by slipping one of these tracks into your next mix, right there between Spoon and Pavement. The perfect black metal gateway drug... (And be sure to check out -- if you can find 'em -- Amesoeurs mainman Neige's other bands, Alcest, who take the blissed out pop thing even further, and Peste Noire, a more black, but equally strange and pretty outfit. We'll try to track them down for the store, but who knows...)

MPEG stream: Bonheur Ampute
MPEG stream: Ruines Humaines

Finally! After three, years, France's Amesoeurs release their debut full length. And it's pretty shocking when you think about all the fuss these guys (and gal) have stirred up, with only FOUR songs to their name. FOUR songs in THREE YEARS. And yet, people were obsessed with those four songs, ourselves included, but hell, those four songs were fantastic, magical, barely black metal to the point where we had trouble understanding why metalheads liked it at all, but that's the thing, it managed to transcend, the songwriting is amazing, the arrangements, the production, the riffs, and mood, the ambience, Amesoeurs really are something special. And it's not like they were doing nothing for the last three years, mainman Neige, managed to release records by his other bands, Peste Noire, Alcest, Forgotten Woods, Lantlos, in fact 3 of the four members of Amesoeurs also play in Peste Noire, but don't be expecting any of that gnarled raw black weirdness, no, Amesoeurs as most folks already know is all about melody, songcraft, it's more post rocky and shoegazey than buzzy and black, at least most of the time, and never more than on this new one. Vocalist and bassist Audrey Sylvain takes center stage here, singing most of the songs, helping Amesoeurs create a gorgeous lush sound that is so far removed from black metal, even blasts of buzz or furious riffing can't take away from its pure poppiness. Some of these songs sound like a band who should be on Slumberland not on Profound Lore. Anyway, Amesoeurs starts off with a blast, some Joy Division-y bass, some mathy angular post rocky guitar, simple stripped down drumming, very moody and tense, almost new wave sounding, distant strings swell, until the guitars explode and the whole track is infused with buzz, creating an impossible hybrid, gorgeously achingly melodic and epic, but so buzz drenched and blackened, if the whole record had played out like this nonstop, people would have been flipping their lids (even more than they already are), but then that would take away from what makes Amesoeurs baffling and brilliant. The second track, "Les Ruches Malades", shows no signs of blackness at all, the guitar has some bite, some crunch, but the main riff is more jangle than buzz, the bass throbs, the drums are super tight, and Audrey's vocals are front and center, this is one of those tracks that make it hard to believe metalheads get into this band at all. Then it's back to more epic emotional blackness, buzzing, thrashing, soaring, but still jam packed with melody and moodiness, suddenly shifting to some hard rocking shoegazey jangle pop, peppered with bursts of Katatonia-like groove, before slipping into more loping rainy day bliss pop. Musically, the follow up "Recueillement" is more of the same, but here Neige adds his own shrieked black metal vox, which sound really odd draped over the minor key jangle beneath, but it also sounds kind of cool, a bit jarring for sure, but in a good way. Blackened and emotional and intense. And so it goes, most of the record loping and jangling and shoegazing, occasionally offering up a bit of black buzz, and at least one track, "Trouble (Eveils Infames)" is pure blackness, all thrashing buzzing frenzied fury, no pop to be found, but that's the only real moment of grimninty to be found, the record is much more about melody and mood, the heaviest it gets is when Neige shrieks over some woozy melancholy jangle, and then there's the title track, that is SO new wave, straight up Cure worship, right down to the bass line and the chiming guitar parts, although Amesoeurs give it a cool twist at the end adding an awesomely jagged chugging riffy outro. The record closes with another Katatonia style chunk of melancholy doom pop, although again, Neige roughs it up a bit with his blackened vokills, and after a brief stretch of silence, the record closes with a secret track of distorted drum machined and blurred buried melody. Of course WE love it. C'mon! It's like if Black Tambourine were actually Black METAL Tambourine, plenty of Katatonia, Lifelover, all that off kilter blackened pop too, but it's obvious Neige and company are black metal masters (Alcest, Peste Noire, Forgotten Woods, Mortifera, right?) so even the poppiest moments are infused with a bit of blackness, no matter how subtle, and when the band do kick out the jams, like on the record opener, it's heavy and emotional in a way few other bands, black metal or otherwise, are capable of. It might take a few listens, for some folks here it still hasn't clicked, then again it might take just one, we were smitten halfway through the first song, but then that first ep is still probably one of our most listened to records of the last several years, and if you're really in need of some blasting blackness, obviously this might not be the place to look, thankfully you don't have to look far, Neige has at least one or two other bands that'll have you covered, but if you're looking for something, gorgeous and twisted and black and dreamy and poppy and heavy and mysterious, well then, this friends, is it.

MPEG stream: Gas In Veins
MPEG stream: Les Ruches Malades
MPEG stream: Recueillement
MPEG stream: Amesoeurs

Earlier this year, we reviewed two volumes of dreamy psychedelic sitar improvisations from multi instrumentalist Erik Amlee. Two discs, both absolutely gorgeous, so gorgeous in fact that we could barely keep them in stock. So we were super excited to get our hands on this, the newest release from Amlee, an actual cd, not a cd-r, another set of improvisations, this time performed on both sitar and acoustic guitar, and again so lovely and tranquil, blissy and dreamy. Deep swells of buzzing strings drift lazily, the acoustic guitar strumming along in the background, adding yet another layer of steel string buzz. Some of the tracks are totally loose and abstract, druggy expanses of slippery psychedelic sound, murky and fuzzy, like the jammiest spaciest parts of Spacemen 3 and Hawkwind stripped down into weird stoner acoustic ragas, all drone and shimmer, a buzzing swirl of warm drug den ambience and sunny afternoon sparkle, a seemingly impossible mix that sounds pretty much perfect together. Some of the other tracks are much more structured and guitar based, gorgeous little chunks of neo-Appalachia, but with all sorts of extra buzz, all nestled within a billowy fog of spacey FX. And still others are a glorious mix of the two, a dreamy collision of Eastern Raga and Western twang, a slithering squirming drone that buzzes and builds into thick squalls of resonating strings and swirling ambient hiss, all wrapped in a blown out, super distorted, reverb heavy sound thanks to some post-recording production. So great. The perfect balance of freaked out psychedelic raga bliss and shimmery lilting buzz and twang. SO RECOMMENDED!!

MPEG stream: Pulse Quickens
MPEG stream: Entering The Mist

The first thing that struck us about this debut release from Amocoma, a mysterious black metal horde from right here in San Francisco, was the cover art, a child-like pen and ink drawing of a pile of heads, but instead of being bloody or gory or horrific, they're sort of more cartoonish, like a whole slew of stick figures were decapitated, their heads tossed in a huge pile, beneath the scrawled band logo, wreathed in clouds of smeared ink. We were definitely intrigued. And�if anything, once inside, we were even moreso... Amocoma traffic in an ultra lo-fi, muddy murky blackness. It's definitely black metal, there is plenty of buzz and blast and howled vocals, but at the same time it's sort of stumbling and noise rocky, it's probably a little of both, but it's all rendered nearly indistinct by the incredibly FX drenched lo-fi production.� Beginning with dreamy swirls of soft focus harmonics and distant rumbles, it doesn't take long for the band to lurch into action, a simple hypnotic riff, looped over and�over, almost sounding more like a bass than a guitar, and not so heavy as it is trancelike. The drums are mechanical and repetitive, the vocals are howled and swathed in reverb, spread out over the proceedings like a black cloud, so much so that at times they just sound like another layer of buzz. And the more you listen, the more pretty it sounds, sure it's raw and harsh, but the melody is so hypnotic, and the swirling clouds of distortion and reverb give everything a sort of soft focus shimmer.� We're definitely reminded of WOLD, in the sense that these little fragmented pop songs, are rendered black and buzzy by the application of super saturated distortion, tape hiss and amp buzz, reverb and delay, so even at its heaviest, it's washed out and abstract, and downright dreamy. The drone element is through the roof, and it's impossible not to hear Tim Hecker or Machinefabriek or any one of those masters of smeary dreamlike sound. At some points things get super psychedelic, like halfway through "Small Dark Sea That Was A Body" where the guitar drops out, leaving just the drums, to sort of pulse and putter in a wide open expanse of soft swirl, while drifting above are all manner of glistening guitar harmonics, spacey FX sparkles, and warm warbly melodic hum.� Damaged and dreamy, freaked out and fucked, one of our new favorite slabs of black beauty for sure...�

MPEG stream: Cowards Live Forever
MPEG stream: Small Dark Sea That Was A Body
MPEG stream: These Are Your Chocies / ...Darkness

Another two songs from one man slow motion doom merchant Amort. We keep hoping for a full length, maybe even an lp or a cd, but there's something about this slow seep of Amort's miserablist music that just seems appropriate, the sound of some massive black beast painfully excreting each and every sound, captured on tape, which does in fact enhance the sound, this one especially, as some of the notes were so blown out, the tape so saturated, that it actually sort of made us dizzy listening to it on headphones. While past missives have focused on ambience, sounding more cinematic, riffs and stretched into long sprawling dirges, the sound here is much more primitive funereal doom, at least on the A side. The guitar massive and churning, the vocals as deep and demonic as possible, any more and it would just turn into a puddle of black sludge. The cinematic element is restrained to haunting little interludes, a creepy speech over a gurgling sea of hiss and electronic burble, the massive riff always poised just out of earshot, ready to crash down and swallow everything whole. The flipside begins with gently picked downtuned guitar, the low end cranked, a thick pulsing rumble, another guitar unfurling a plodding chug, another loosing little trills of high end shimmer into the blackness, the vocals again, a gurgling black cloud. But with a little flutter of clean guitar surfacing here and there, drifting through the throbbing black expanse. Transparent green cassettes in black and white covers, and with a black and white hand numbered insert. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!

First full length in seven years from former Man Is The Bastard noisemaker Henry Barnes, who since leaving the Bastard fold, has been crafting a strange mix of Xtian home brewed psychedelic folk, and avant experimental noise, a worshipful hybrid of spaced out ragas and lilting pastoral avant Appalachia. An instrument builder as well as a musician, much of Amps' music is created on home built kitchen-sink contraptions of Barnes creation, which helps give AfC its strange, haunting, otherworldly sound. If you ever saw MITB back in the day, you know doubt saw Barnes huddled in the corner in front of a huge pile of weird electronics, and amplifiers built from plywood, all adorned with primitive drawings of trees and winged guitars, that spirit eventually blossomed into Amps For Christ. On Canyons Cars And Crows, it seems very little has changed, opening with a lilting bit of devotional psych folk flutter, with Barnes' plaintive vocals, draped over simple strum and fuzzy soft psych filigree, which leads directly into "Miss You Mother", which finds a harmonium like drone buzzing beneath a washed out and woozy guitar melody, dreamily sundappled and drifty. In fact if anything, on this new record, the whole vibe is a lot more laid back and blissed out, it's not really until the fifth track, "Hills Of Padua", that we hear that twisted Amps For Christ electronic bagpipe avant jig that peppers much of the Amps back catalog, a buzzing analog melody, crumblingly distorted, but weirdly and noisily lovely, and then it's right back into more dreamy psychedelic strum. Fans of the Woods will definitely find much to love here, like the Woods more eccentric older brother, the one that lives in the basement, and spends all day and all night 'tinkering' with weird machinery, we always just assumed he was building a time machine or a weapon, but in fact, he was making strange musical instruments, and using them to create beautifully twisted music like this!

MPEG stream: Sailor's Searching
MPEG stream: Miss You Mother
MPEG stream: Hills Of Padua
MPEG stream: Chieftans II

What could be more 'necro' than the debut album "The Codex Necro" from the truly disturbed, demented and totally necro UK black metal outfit Anaal Nathrakh?? You know, the ridiculously-hard-to-find black metal masterpiece we raved about last year? Well, how about their demos? Thus this disc is appropriately titled, as it contains both of AN's early demo tapes, plus some equally necro bonus tracks. If you loved "The Codex Necro" like we did, you'll be happy to know that "Total Fucking Necro" is just as good -- in fact some folks think it's better. It's a bit less bizarre than their full length, being much more melodic and traditional in the Norse style. Which is not a bad thing. There's definitely some major Mayhem worship going on here (witness the TWO Mayhem covers) as is evidenced by the distinctly "De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas" sound. But even then, their very own cult-necro-blackened weirdness is quite present as well. Demos, side projects (Frost, Mistress): it seems these guys are necro geniuses and can do no wrong -- we await their upcoming "When Fire Rains Down From The Sky" ep with grim delight... NB. And for those of you who dropped the ball first time around, we've just managed to get a few copies of "The Codex Necro" back in as well!

RealAudio clip: Anaal Nathrakh
RealAudio clip: Necrodeath

Anaksimandros features members of Finland's wonderful Kemialliset Ystavat. Although the sound here is a bit removed from the gorgeous folk of KY. The title had us expecting some sort of noisy cross between Merzbow and Skullflower...and it's not all that far from being spot on. Although add in a little No Neck Blues Band hippie jam and some Dead C ambient roar and you'll be even Anyone into the No Neck Blues Band, the Dead C, Birchville Cat Motel, Skullflower and anyone who bought those recent Sunroof! / Vibracathedral Orchestra cd-rs will lose their shit over this. Vinyl only and extremely limited.

Previously released as two seperate, hard to find cds ("Old Stuff Part 1" and "Old Stuff Part II") on two different labels. Now some crazy person at NG Records has gone and released this new version, compiling (as it says) the early works (i.e. demos, singles, and compilation appearances) of this notorious blurr-core, noise-metal, very un-pc band from Boston. Over 7000 "songs" to be found here, spread over two cds. That's mainly thanks to the presence here of the tracks from the infamous "5,643 Song EP"... Now for most reviews of A.C. discs, we'd simply pick the best song titles and leave it at that, 'cause offensive & funny song titles are what A.C. does best. But the material on here dates from back when A.C. didn't supply titles (or lyrics for that matter) for their "compositions". So that leaves us to make a case for the musical rather than humorous value (or musically humorous value) of these tracks. Oh boy...well for all you experimental jokers out there, the aforementioned "5,643 Song EP" features the songs playing at the same time! There's actually three hours of material compressed onto the original 7", and it took twenty hours for them to record it! Compares favorably to the Francisco Lopez disc we made record of the week last list... Then there's the "Unplugged EP" tracks, where A.C. takes their screaming metal chaos into the acoustic realm for some unique results. And, any fan of John Zorn or Masonna should really check out A.C. as well, on general principles... truly a classic band, American outsider improv "genius". If not musical genius, then comedy genius. Sure, you or I could have recorded more or less the same stuff on your parents' stereo much like these guys did for their first demo (disc one, track one), but you have to admit that you'd never record so much of it, for so many years, or play such crazy shows. We (Allan and Andee anyway--in fact, A.C. was the first interview Allan ever did for his old 'zine) love this band. For you collectors, note that there's material on these cds not found on the original singles and such. And for novices, we also recommend A.C.'s "Morbid Florist" ep and "Everyone Must Be Killed" album to start with... The cd booklet includes detailed liner notes about each track/release written by A.C. mastermind Seth Putnam. All hail!

We listed a split record between these guys, Anapparatus, and a band called Llange a while back, both bands doing their own version of the metallic post rock thing. Llange were definitely more of that sort of Godspeed / Explosions thing, but Anapparatus took their post metal whatever and injected some serious screamo into the mix, which definitely hit the spot. When we got that split, they also sent us a handful of an older ep, and boy what a difference a year or two makes, the Anapparatus of old shows no sign of post rock, or post metal, or whatever you want to call it, instead they are full on mathy post punk screamo metal grind. Furious tempos, insane drumming, incredible riffing, buzz and blast, howled vocals, every song a lurching, sweat soaked, basement destroying, ultra dense math metal workout. Sure they bliss out here and there, get all moody and doomy now and again, and there are melodies and hooks everywhere, and the recording is so good, the band sound loud and heavy and like you're right there in the pit about to get crushed by a volley of stage divers, but even in the frenzied fury of these short sweet songs, they also manage to inject a little Drive Like Jehu into the proceedings, making for some serious dense, complex post punk heaviness. No idea why these guys aren't HUGE, but we've practically been listening to nothing else since we first got these in. Packaged in a full color sleeve, pressed onto one of those 3 inch cds embedded in a 5" plastic disc, super striking looking, and a killer bargain, eight songs, 22 minutes, 6 bucks. WAY recommended.

MPEG stream: Scars Of Separation
MPEG stream: Within Nightmares
MPEG stream: The Inner Workings Of Jelousy

You know, you think by now we'd be sick of the metallic post rock thing, the slow builds, the epic crescendos, the mathy drumming, the explosive metallic blow outs, the spidery riffage, the Godspeed like ambience, but fuck it, we're not, we LOVE that shit, especially when someone does it right. Or does it differently. Mixes it up a little while retaining the bits that made us dig that sound in the first place. Thanks to aQ pal Dave S. for the heads up on these two bands, both of the math rock post metal whateveryoucallit variety, but each with a distinctly different take on the sound. Anapparatus is the band that lured us in, their sound is sharp and hard, heavy and metallic, but with a total screamo edge. Howled vocals over churning minor key riffage, super powerful drumming, all locked into a loosely post-metal framework, lots of long stretches of tribal understated rhythms, chiming guitar harmonics, soft sheets of feedback, but then when the heavy parts kick in, and the vocalist shrieks, it's magic, like if Godspeed or Explosions In The Sky recorded for Gravity Records in the nineties. Some of the riffs are SO catchy, and the band unwind terse super tight mini-epics, that manage to sound super controlled but sprawl wildly at the same time. But it's definitely the vocals that seal the deal, transforming what was already a killer mathrock band following in the well worn footprints of Isis and Pelican and the like, into something intense and passionate and angry and aggro and fuck it EMO. Way mathier than any of the above mentioned bands, and so much more impassioned, this is post metal punk rock for sure. All three tracks destroy. We'll definitely do our best to track down more from these guys. But Llange aren't too shabby either, although right off the bat, their take on the sound is a bit more traditional, but like we said, it's a sound we love, and Llange do it well, wrapping guitars in soft billowy reverb, the drums weaving a dense framework for the soaring guitars, the arrangements flowing organically from slow brood, to heavy moody dirge, to full on blown out psych jam to shimmery near balladic drift. The band does get almost metal at times, but chooses to remain just this side of full on downtuned crush, which suits them just fine. The closer adds gorgeous crooned vocals to the warm whirring synths and tight mathy drumming, the melodies sweetly melancholy, building to a seriously heavy finale that would most definitely give Conifer a run for their math rock post metal money...

MPEG stream: Labyrinth
MPEG stream: Far Above Us And Way Below

From our pal Duncan at Rage Of Achilles comes this thrashing, pummelling head banging death/splatter/grind/metal doubleheader. Two bands we'd never heard of, battling it out, both pretty awesome. The first 21 tracks, almost all clocking in at a minute or less, come courtesy of Anatomi-71. Crusty, sort of lo-fi, not-quite-hyperspeed grind. Two vocalists (or one doing double time) grunting growls and hellish screeching. All furious and fast and compliacted. Good stuff, but the final 12 tracks are where it's at! The band Nemo are responsible for these, and they are soooooo fast, and so insane sounding. They incorporate lightning speed drum machines, video game samples, and all sorts of bizarre bleeps and blips and buzzing into the mix, turning their metallic grind into some sort of grindmetal alien video game soundtrack. This stuff is so nuts it's kind of hard to even describe. If I was making a horror/alien invasion/splatter flick, the is the music I would want as the soundtrack. Think some fucked up mix of the Locust, Orthrelm, Agoraphobic Nosebleed, Crom Tech, Man Is The Bastard, Space Invaders, Galaga, Missle Command, Joust and Rastan. Or the best death metal video game they never made for the Commodore 64! Fucking great!

RealAudio clip: Fever Dreams
RealAudio clip: Robosong II
RealAudio clip: Du Ar Inte Ni Med Mig Gubbjavel

Better known (or perhaps more realistically, not really known at all) as the man behind aQ faves Souvenir's Young America, Jonathan Lee steps out on his own, trading in his brooding harmonica flecked metallic post rock, for something a little less post rock, a lot less metallic, but no less brooding OR harmonica flecked. The thing with SYA that really set them apart from so many others in the ever expanding army of Neur-Isis clones, is that they approached their sound from a pretty unique direction, of all those bands they are definitely the least metal, instead infusing their sound with plenty of dusty Morricone-isms (due in no small part to the harmonica) and a desert-y almost soundtracky vibe akin to Scenic or Calexico. It's still dynamic and epic and sweeping, but with more twang, more subtle shading, slide guitar, just more evocative in general. The opening track of Lee's first solo foray starts out right away with harmonica, maybe the same harmonica as on the SYA record since the liner notes explain that those harmonica's are sampled, but the result is much the same, the instrumentation may be different, a slow whirling churn of textured low end, and buried muted melodies, but that mournful harmonica over the top brings it right back to some barren windswept street, the sky overhead clear, the sun beating down, everything cloaked in a layer of dust. This is drone music, or dark ambience, but Lee demonstrates his unique sonic approach expands well beyond his rock band. The second track eschews the harmonica, but is no less cinematic, weird melodic fragments, drift on thick swells of low end, a strange melody is twisted and draped over the top, the track peppered with strange sounds, like buttons being pushed, or tapes being rewound, or splashing water, hard to say what, but it adds a strange haunting texture to the already mysterious soundscape. The harmonica returns one track later, and we're once again transported right back to that lonely stretch of desert. This time though, there is some skittery rhythm, and another layer of low end, all rubbery and warbly, shimmering beneath the surface. The rest of the record wanders similar paths, exploring equally haunting soundscapes, crumbling distorted guitar, smeared into a soft drone beneath a lilting minor key melody, lurching processed rhythms floating in stretches of hiss and shimmer, deeeeeeep bass rumbles and pulses, peppered with fragmented melodies, one track transforms into a sound not that far removed from the Souvenir's mothership, slow motion guitar grind, skittery drums, moaning distant melodies, all wound into a super tense slow burning epic. Two tracks here feature guests, the first is a name most aQ customers are probably familiar with by now, Jasper TX, whose contribution is quite subtle, adding extra low end, introducing some subtle textural chop and shuffle, adding a bit of an Oval vibe to an already murky underwater drift, the other is another aQ fave, Xela, aka Type records head honcho John Twells, who does a serious number on his track, adding all manner of shortwave interference, warm smears of hiss and static, haunting disembodied vocals, thick distorted crumbling guitars, verging on a Nadja vibe partway through, before slipping back into the mesmerizing moodiness of the rest of the record. Definitely not a run of the mill drone, or ambient record. Anduin definitely puts about 90 percent of cd-r floorcore dronemusic to shame, this drone approached like songs instead of sounds, this is the sort of record that blossoms with more listens, headphones are mandatory, dig deeper, get lost, let the sounds swallow you whole, carry you off. ABSOLUTELY RECOMMENDED. Packaged in a beautiful handscreened sleeve, and includes a cd as well (not a cd-r) for your iTunes or Discman.

MPEG stream: For Francis Bacon (Part 1)
MPEG stream: For Francis Bacon (Part 2) ((Xela Mix))

Angel Eyes are another band ready to make their mark in the blossoming post rock / sludge metal scene, and manage to do just that with Something To Do With Death, making -that- sound completely their own. So much so that upon hearing this disc we freaked out and immediately got in touch with the label and got a bunch of copies for the store. The general vibe is one we've come to love, the slow building brooding moodiness, a creeping post rock slow burn, minor key guitar, distant droney shimmer, simple martial percussion, building in intensity, the opening track could be Mogwai or Godspeed, with its understated majesty and about-to-explode urgency. Track two, the awesomely titled "By The Time He Was My Age, Orson Welles Had Made Citizen Kane", starts off with more loping post rockiness, but quickly lurches into some seriously fierce Neurosisy sludge, but within the roiling churning downtuned brutality, lurks plenty of mournful melody and subtle sonic shadings. Making this more than just heavy, more a an emotionally loaded ferocity. In fact each song is a expansive and beautifully convoluted journey, from massive pummel, to dreamy shuffle, to tribal ambience, to blown out guitarnoise and back again. So fucking good. Obviously, anyone who digs Isis, Pelican, Godspeed, Tides, Conifer, Minsk, Mouth Of The Architect, Rosetta, Minsk or any of the current crop of postrockmetal outfits NEEDS THIS NOW!

MPEG stream: Two Too Many
MPEG stream: By The Time He Was My Age, Orson Welles Had Made Citizen Kane

Bands should really label the side of their records. Especially if it's a split and the band they're sharing the split with has a somewhat similar sound. Similar to how bands that sound like SUNNO))) or Nadja should definitely label the speed a record is meant to be played at, since it often sounds equally good at both (or all three!) speeds. So we were super psyched to finally get a new record from one of our favorite post rock metal combos, Angel Eyes, and we threw it on, and while it definitely sounded similar, it seemed like a lot had changed. The sound was a strange constantly shifting melange of loping metallic post rock, lurching caustic grind and skittery jazziness. We were pretty sure we had mistakenly put the other band's side on, when they shifted gears and kicked out some seriously epic blackened screamo-y Neur-Isis style jams, and then we weren't so sure. Eventually we did figure it out, especially once we laid our ears on the side long single track epic on the flipside, but we did decide that we did indeed dig this crazy band with the crazy name A Fine Boat, That Coffin!, who definitely take the post rock metal thing and tangle it all up with screamo and grind, although we could do without the bits of jazziness, thankfully those are brief. But for sure, heavy and chaotic and epic good stuff. But flipping the record over, we suddenly felt right at home again (boy are we gonna feel dumb after all this if that side WAS in fact Angel Eyes), with a sound both warm and lush, heavy and crushing, brooding, pounding minor key melancholic slow building heaviness, epic and majestic, anguished howled vocals over super melodic metallic crush, monstrous and pummeling and almost orchestral at times, laced with cool expanses of shimmery, dreamlike low end guitar, streaks of glistening feedback, chiming bell like melodies, eventually slipping into a super minimal drift, all reverby and echoey, a woozy soft focus slowcore sprawl, that eventually builds and builds and explodes into a super epic emo metalpsych blow out finale. These guys are so good. One of the few bands, amidst the many who now practice this sort of thing, that should have the big boys shaking in their boots. Cool gatefold sleeves, a bit confusing which band is on which side, but you'll figure it out, and both bands kick ass, but Angel Eyes' sidelong track is worth the price of admission. LIMITED of course, we got our copies direct from the band, their LAST copies, which means when we run out we'll have to get more from the label in Europe, so if that happens, please be patient while we wait for more to arrive from overseas, and needless to say (but since that's the way we roll we'll say it anyway) ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY RECOMMENDED!

Woah. Just when you thought all the "long lost" bands have already been unearthed, something like this comes along and knocks you flat on your ass. Most of us first read about Angel Face in a great article in Ugly Things a few issues back. Other than that and a piece on the band on Julian Cope's Head Heritage site, the only other meager info that we could find about these guys was in French. Which makes sense, as Angel Face were indeed French. The band's confusing history began in 1974 with the core lineup of the Regoli brothers, Pascal (bass) and Julian (guitar), as well as one Riton Angel Face on guitar. Their biggest inspiration is undoubtedly the Stooges, but unlike every other band to rip off Ann Arbor's finest, Angel Face were in fact swimming in the same primordial waters as their heroes. It makes sense to assume that these guys probably dug "L.A. Blues" and "We Will Fall" as much as any of the Stooges' tunes, because Angel Face clearly understood that "heavy" isn't just about volume and power chords (not that those aren't here in spades), but also about pure noise and total chaos. In addition to this, one can detect a considerable Hawkwind influence, as well as heavy doses of krautrock. While other bands at this time were more likely to incorporate the latest sounds of punk's first wave, Angel Face kept things sounding firmly pre-1977. The end results are pretty mindblowing, tense and aggressive pieces that lock into a groove and pound the hell out of it for the entirety of the song with guitars that sound like sonic flamethrowers. Trying to piece together a timeline here is quite difficult (the liner notes are in French), and the band never even released anything in their lifetime, so what you have here on the first disc are demos and live tracks from sometime between 1975 and 1978 (originally released in 1984 on lp as A Wild Odyssey), strung together to form one surprisingly cohesive whole. We're pretty sure the first tracks feature the singer named Eric Tendz, who was described by the other band members as nothing more than a disreputable Iggy clone. And yes, there will be no mistaking Iggy's influence, but Tendz delivers things so perfectly and frantically that we can't complain one bit. His vocals are often punctuated by shrill little shrieks which seem humanly impossible, and his drunk sounding delivery makes it impossible to tell what language he's singing in (though we think it's English). Other tracks on the first disc are comprised of live recordings which predate the Tendz songs, pieced together in a very Faust-ian way with the band's preferred vocalist Henri Flesh (again, we think). These songs are more loose and unhinged, no doubt due to the guitar prowess of Julian Regoli, whose early presence in the band kept things psychedelic to the highest order. There are also a few tracks that feature just Riton Angel Face and Pascal, on guitar/vocals and synth, respectively. While stripped to their bare essence, these songs come off as strangely powerful and complete sounding. One can only wonder what possibilities might have existed for this amazing band. Unfortunately, there was little working in their favor, and it is easy to imagine scores of idiot punk rockers not knowing what to make of a band of long haired guys with aviator sunglasses. The story didn't end there, however, and in the '80s Angel Face reformed under the leadership of Riton and Pascal. The biggest change was the decision to add a female vocalist, Kim Nguyen. Truthfully, these songs are a bit of a letdown after the pure rock n' roll fury of the first disc, but mainly in comparison. The songs are pretty good, but just a little more straightforward, and the '80s production certainly doesn't help anything. Likewise, disc 3 is made up of some shoddily recorded live tracks and radio stuff from different eras. Some of this stuff appears to be from the first era and is quite good, but the songs don't benefit from the unfortunate sound quality. So, you have no doubt noticed the hefty price tag on this beast, and we realize the above paragraph may hold some people back.... BUT we seriously can't recommend the stuff on disc 1 enough, for folks into the likes of Soggy (anther long lost French band of Stooges worshippers) and of course The Stooges themselves. Check out the first four sound clips to see what we mean, and just keep in mind only 1,000 of these were pressed up - and of the dozen we ordered, we've already sold 10 on account of "tweeting" about it, so right now we've got 2, yes TWO - and we may not be seeing them again any time soon...

MPEG stream: Wolf City Blues
MPEG stream: 12 1/2
MPEG stream: Endless Road (Cut Up Songs)
MPEG stream: I Don't Care
MPEG stream: Secret Town
MPEG stream: Precious Urban Nasty Kid

Killer underground black metal battle to the death between the Finns and the Italians, released on Finnish cult metal label Bestial Burst. Angmar, from Finland (not to be confused with the French Angmar) offer up some fuzzy plodding blackness, dirgey and primitive, ultra lo-fi and buzzy, with simple drumming, and super anguished vocals. A sort of buzzing black thrash with some old school Celtic Frost moments here and there. The True Endless from Italy counter with their own black blast, some serious buzzing black Mayhem worship. Lightning fast swirls of thick fuzz guitar, manic riffing and blurry blast beats. Two tracks of completely blown out Norwegian style classic blackness, bookending a gorgeously depressive doomic dirge, with sludgy guitars, plodding glacial drumming and howling guttural vocals. Slightly sexist (sexy?) aside: The True Endless also feature on bass, Soulfucker, quite possibly the hottest corpsepainted lady we've ever seen!

MPEG stream: Stone Christ Semen
MPEG stream: Who Stopped The Time?

Two years ago, we discovered a one man band from Israel called Animus, who crafted a depressive buzz unlike any we had heard before. An incredible dirgey depressive landscape of blown out buzz, of layered whir, a sound that in other hands would sound downright blissful, but there was nothing blissful about that sound, it was miserable, melancholy, suicidal, dejected and despondent, the darkest of emotions rendered it varying shades of black, painted in varying degrees of buzz. Two years later, Animus returns with another bleak sonic missive, another exercise in blackened buzz, but right from the start something is different. The record begins with hushed minor key steel string acoustic guitar, softly strummed, shimmery, until the buzz swoops in, and immediately locks into a static blast, the drum machine rigid and unswerving, pounding out a relentless beat, while the guitar is locked into a buzzy loop. Impossibly mesmerizing and hypnotic, exactly the sort of subtle transcendence we are always looking for in black metal. And so it goes, slipping back and forth from soft fluttery folk, to frenetic black flurry, until halfway through, after another brief soft interlude, the sound shifts to an impossibly dense doomy crawl, the guitar continuing to buzz furiously, but the drums slowed down to a tarpit crawl, and the vocals spewed out like some noxious black fog, gurgling and growling, a thick layered wall of droning sound. The deeper you sink, the further it moves from black metal, and the closer it gets to some experimental dronemusick. But even that only lasts briefly, before the song shifts back to the opening riff, and resumes its back and forth, only this time introducing extended pauses and haunting church bells. And that's just the opening track. The next few tracks offer up some cinematic black ambience, soft piano, moaning strings, deep shimmering drones, muttered otherworldy invokations, folky steel string strum, hushed harsh vocals drenched in effects until it becomes crumbling streaks of distortion, before the vocals how and wail over the lilting minor key melody. That tranquility is disrupted by a flurry of chaotic drumming and buzz drenched riffage, which gives way to a speeded up black krautrock, muted layered fuzzed out guitars, and impossibly fast blast beats, all over a pretty swoonsome guitar melody, and peppered with super random cymbal crash crescendos. Along stretch of incredibly deep rumbling blackened ambience, all subterranean drones and distant whirs, gives way to a haunting washed out final track, the guitars so blurred and smeared it's hard to even hear the riff, instead the guitars sway back and forth like black swells, the drumming spare and a bit off kilter, the vocals a raspy croak, the tone of the track not heavy or grim or brutal, as much as weary and worn, the sound of spirits slipping into the darkness, of the world slowly falling to pieces, the sound of stars blinking out, leaving a vast expanse of utter blackness, rendered in sound, it becomes a woozy whirling almost seasick dirge, with muted militaristic drumming, and a gorgeously thick and viscous soft focus roiling sea of warm languid buzz. So gorgeous and abject, so dreamily depressive, and so fucking amazing.

MPEG stream: Untitled I
MPEG stream: Untitled II

Once you get past the mildly problematic naked-little-girl album cover, and the STUPID band name, you'll discover probably one of the best black metal records of the year. Furious and relentless, amazingly aggressive, and FAST. With catchy riffs, fucked song

RealAudio clip: Mother Anorexia
RealAudio clip: Chatiment De La Rose