Over the years, we'd only ever heard a track or two from these UK post punks, a band whose members would eventually go on to play in more high profile groups like Maximum Joy and The Pop Group, which should definitely give you an idea of where the Glaxo Babies were coming from. Local reissue label Superior Viaduct continues their idiosyncratic reissue campaign, which has included Devo, the Solaris soundtrack, 100 Flowers, Factrix, Henry Flynt, Phill Niblock, and now Brigitte Fontaine (reviews coming soon) and these two from the Glaxo Babies. The sound will definitely be familiar to fans of post punk of that era, angular metallic guitars, dubby rhythms grooves, repetitive almost chanted vocals, horns, all locked into cyclical, hypnotic grooves. Some tracks frantic and frenetic, others laid back and dreamily druggy. Both of these records were originally released in 1980. Put Me On The Guest List is a collection of the group's demos, recorded live with no overdubs, never intended to be released, but so glad they were, kinetic, almost power poppy, sinewy basslines and simple solid drumming, all in service of some killer guitar work, crunchy jangly riffs, and angular crunch, not to mention some super dramatic vocals, some tracks slipping into near doominess, others tense and intense, angular and atonal, check out "This Is Your Life", all minor key moodiness and heady post punk brood. A few tracks get all reggae / dubby, others skronky and jazzy, and still others super abstract and experimental, but most of Put Me On The Guest List is just primo UK post punk, and essential listening for fans of the Homosexuals, P.I.L., Gang Of Four, Wire and all the rest�
Nine Months To The Disco was the group's first, and only, proper full length, supposedly recorded in a single day, and it's a monster. How a record like this, and a group like this managed to remain so far under the radar is shocking after listening to Nine Months. It's funky and groovy, tense and wiry, the sound slipping easily from moody post punkiness, to downright dancey punk-funk, to super experimental krautrock style minimalism, "This Is Your Vendetta" is dark and creepy and so sinister, all spaced out and shadowy, laced with wild flurries of spastic drumming, spidery guitar melodies, and distant horn skronk, culminating in a truly harrowing sample over the brooding last minute or so. "Seven Days" is all churning jazz minimalism, sounding like a darker, dronier, post punkier Necks! The title track is all backwards rhythms, backwards basslines, and creepy droned out ambience, while "The Tea Master And The Assassin" is another abstract ambient experiment that evokes a sinister sense of dread. "Shake (The Foundations)" is the Glaxo Babies at their funkiest, a track that was often covered by the Pop Group later on, it's a dead ringer for Parliament! And the awesomely titled "Dinosaur Disco Meets The Swampsstomp" is not the funky jam you might imagine, in fact, it's something way more abstract and trippy. For all the post punk, and punk funk on Nine Months To The Disco, it's remarkable how much of the record is totally far our, psychedelic and experimental. Part of what makes it so essential. Like Put Me On The Guest List, Nine Months To The Disco is most definitely for fans of P.I.L, Wire, the Homosexuals, etc. but it's also the sort of think that might push all your This Heat buttons, plenty of kraut influenced rhythmic mesmer and FX heavy avant bunkurfunk. Needless to say WAY recommended!!
We're so immersed in Finnish underground music all the time, that we sometimes forget there's probably a whole lot of other amazing underground stuff going on over there as well. Like say, ART ferinstance. Well last year we got a crash course in Finnish underground art with a hefty eye popping tome called Glomp. And it happened to be the eighth Glomp, but the first one we had ever set eyes on and we were smitten, BIG TIME. So were all of you as we couldn't keep it in stock, and it ended up going out of print pretty dang fast.
Thankfully, it's time for another hair raising, eye popping, head spinning, other-body-part-doing-something-else-that-body-part-doesn't-normally-do installment of crazy, gorgeous, funny, sad, poignant, confusing, fantastical and fucked up Finnish underground art in the form of Glomp #9! And just like the first one it's amazing. And even though much of the text is in Finnish, it doesn't detract from the loveliness or far-out-ness or just plain old simple beauty of this amazing artwork. And for all you Finnish music freaks (like us), tons of the artwork here is by folks who do time in bands like Avarus, Anaksimandros, Kemialliset Ystavat and loads more. Just like #8, the stuff inside is all over the map, from gorgeous and bizarre photographs, to gorgeous super detailed Renee French like pencil drawings, to super abstract paintings, to garish sculptures, confusing collages, tons of comic strips, most you don't even have to understand Finnish to get (although most of the text is subtitled with English footnotes!). Our favorite is probably the recurring strip by Tommi Musturi, the trials and tribulations of a strange doughy white pill shaped being with pink lips and a tubular nose, who wanders Frank-like through strange and dangerous worlds. But all of it is just so amazing. Finnish freaks will definitely want this, but anyone into cool weird hard to find art books will definitely go crazy for this too. LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES WORLDWIDE. Of that thousand we have a super limited amount, and if people go as crazy for this one as they did for the last one, they won't be around for long...
French black metallers Glorior Belli continue down the lefthand path, moving ever further away from the Deathspell style angular black buzz that defined their early sound toward something that sounds more, well, like Pantera maybe, or Down? Crazy we know, but their last record, The Great Southern Darkness paired the aforementioned black buzz, with some serious rocking, as in Southern rock, as in shit kicking, skull stomping, BIG riff, hard RAWKing heaviness. And c'mon, this new one is called, Gators Rumble, Chaos Unfurls, how can you not expect more of that blackened heavy rock? Which is precisely what you get on opener "Blackpowder Roars", with a killer main riff, totally Sabbathy, spidery stoner rock leads, bellowed vox, that veer dangerously close to Phil Anselmo territory, there's even some total wailing super rock clean vocals, that get a little Alice In Chains, and this is all fucking awesome, imagine those bands but heavier and blacker, and this is IT, and it sounds killer. But maybe it seems like they've yet to commit wholly to this new sound, cuz the second track slips right back into gnarled black metal buzz, and these guys are still masters, the sound fierce and fucked up and furious, fans of DSO, Katharsis, Funeral Mist, this is your shit, oh wait, at least until the swinging kick ass Southern rock breakdown a minute or so in, and then it's right back into more atonal black buzz. What the fuck! So killer. The new sound so much more seemingly integrated into their old sound, the shift between the two, as natural as anything, the songs eminently more headbangable, the grooviness not at all taking away anything from the black fury, if anything, it seriously just makes it that much more ROCKING. And then they go whole hog balls out stoner groove, like on "Ain't No Pit Deep Enough", it's like the heaviest stoner rock EVER. And so it goes for the rest of the record, with the blackness more serving the stoner rock than the other way around, check out "A Hoax, A Croc" - a jam later day Corrosion Of Conformity would have killed for, like a supercharged ultra heavy Allman Brothers blowout, that eventually erupts into something blacker and buzzier, only to slip right back into that main riff. Holy fuck, this is fast becoming our new favorite records. Troo grim hordes be damned, this shit KILLS, so catchy, so heavy, so groovy, stoner metallers who never gave black metal a second glance, this is THEE record that will change your mind. And if you like the idea of blackened groovy stoner metal heaviness, this might be your new favorite too.
What is it about France? For years now, this unsuspecting nation has been churning out some of the most vile, merciless, and best black metal on the planet. Groups like Deathspell Omega and Blut Aus Nord have set a new standard that expertly blends bizarre, progressive experimentation with a blackened attack that only a fool would criticize for not being "true". The results are undeniable, and it should be clear that among those redefining black metal for a new age, the French are at the top of the heap. For some reason, Glorior Belli has yet to receive the attention bestowed on many of their countrymen, but, Satan willing, things will definitely change with the arrival of Meet Us At The Southern Sign, the band's third album.
Glorior Belli may not be the weirdest of the bunch, but FUCK do these guys know how to conjure up the perfect blend of crushing brutality with a well defined sense of off kilter, seasick melodies and an overall approach that simply rocks. With that said, this album does come across as something different, but not in a "listen to my oscillator" kind of way. Maybe the weirdness here is relative, since we're talking about a band that is relentlessly metal at the heart of it all, but Glorior Belli's more lumbering numbers, such as opener "Once In A Blood Red Moon" almost come across as what present day Earth might sound like if they gave it all up to the dark side. It's hard to come out and say this, surely many will disagree, but some of this *almost* moves with the flow of the blues. It's doomy. It's dirgey. It sounds like the black metal version of waking up in your trailer with a horrible hangover after a night of intense drinking at the local shithole. Mainman Infestvvs's guttural croak is surprisingly similar to the legendary bark of John Brannon, most famous for his work with hardcore gods Negative Approach, but ALSO revered as the crooner for bluesy post-punk crew the Laughing Hyenas. Of course, the artwork could also confirm this bluesy presence, as could the song titles themselves. And then, holy shit, without even looking beforehand, we notice a peculiar song title... "In Every Grief Stricken Blues", another behemoth of mid-tempo, down and out goodness. Fuck, first Diamatragon's Crossroad, now this. Maybe we're in the early stages of a new sub-genre?
With all that said, it is certainly impossible to ignore how insanely, overwhelmingly METAL this is. Fear not, for there are plenty of lightspeed blast beats, grinding dual guitars, and heavy as fuck winding bass grooves, which add a weird mathy element to the maelstrom. All contribute equally to the potent, concentrated assault of Glorior Belli, making this one of the best metal albums of the year. So unbelievably, incomprehensibly awesome, we're stilll trying to wrap our heads around it all...
There really is something about music from New Zealand. We used to think it was sort of shorthand cheapshot music journalism, comparing everything to the Dead C, and lumping all these disparate sounding bands together based entirely on locale, but dammit if the more we listen to this stuff, the more it does seem to be true. Take this Glory Fckn Sun lp, the latest chunk of sweet dreamy noise from New Zealanders Antony Milton, Ben Spiers and Simon O'Rorke. As we were listening to this, all sorts of other bands came to mind, but when we thought about it more than a second, and listened really closely, we realized that this music could not have come from anywhere else. A blind listening, and we're fairly sure, even if we couldn't name the band, we would have immediately known New Zealand.
None of that is to say this record isn't unique or its own entity, or that it sounds like everything else from NZ, it most certainly doesn't, but it does share much sonically, and texturally, and there's just something ineffable that makes the music of GFS distinctly New Zealand.
Regardless, it's a big glorious fucking soft noise explosion, beginning with soft cymbal swirls and rumbling low wend, lots of effects, and deep buried melodies. Long streaks of buzzing metallic skree skitters over bits of clatter and clang, all held in place by a field of creaking metal on metal shimmer, murky vocals swimming in swirling pools of crumbling distortion. If you need references, think of some lost record on Corpus Hermeticum in the nineties, Surface Of The Earth maybe, a softened Dead C, muted and swathed in electric crackle, the whole thing a glorious whirling abyss of sound peppered with the clank and clunk of mini pipe fights, and twisted atonal chords, chiming harmonies, all layered and spread out into gritty streaks of droning abstract, slightly noisy beauty.
Pressed on clear red vinyl, housed in a striking chipboard sleeve hand screened, two color, and of course LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!
Fans of the damaged and deranged, the truly warped and mindbending, the freaky, fucked up and plain baffling, by now should be well acquainted with the mysterious master of the guitar synth, and his bevy of bewildering outfits, two of which we've reviewed on past AQ lists, this being the third, in what we can only imagine is some sort of insane trilogy. Xynfonica came first. A "classical" record, completely composed and performed on the guitar synthesizer. A tripped out, outsider slab of post Peter And The Wolf classical deconstructed, atonal and so so so difficult, oh and did we mention that the other part of the equation was seemingly incongruous raspy evil metal vocals? A totally not-right combination, but for those of us who dig that sort of stuff, it was pretty unbeatable. Then there was the HUGE booklet of lyrics, complete with FOOTNOTES!!!
Then came Shevalreq, part two in the "trilogy", his 'world music' record, where the same atonal angular tones and notes, the howled raspy vocals, were this time wrapped around faux tablas and various other ethnic percussion instruments. If anything, it was even more fucked and amazing. Not to mention the over the top cover art, with miniature jousting knights on horseback ON TOP OF various dat machines and other studio gear. WTF?
So while we anxiously awaited part three, we were fairly sure nothing could top Shevalreq. But oh were we wrong.
The new one is called Gluttony, the name of the record: Collapse Of The Roman Republic, another epic tale of war and death and love and betrayal, this one being his quote unquote jazz record, and fuck if it's not the most amazingly fucked up record EVER. Now in addition to the metallic rasp, the stumbling angular melodies, are lots of synthesized horn stabs, crooning synthesizers, faux vibes and marimbas, synth oboes, synth bassoons, all peppered with some serious twisted tangles of Greg Ginn-esque guitar squall, usually draped over some woozy, smoky dive bar synthjazz. It still sort of sounds like Peter And The Wolf, but it also sounds like the score for some mystery noir z-movie thriller, ripe for some sort of Sam Spade voice over, but instead you get a voice over from some growling bile spewing demon, and the tracks lope on endlessly, the melodies, maniacally off kilter, the whole thing so brilliantly baffling it's almost impossible to listen to the whole thing, but we've come close. Very very close.
Absolutely recommended, but ONLY for those who can handle stuff like this. You know who you are.
Okay, we listed this a while back. Sure we dug it, but then someone let us in on a little secret, which was that the vinyl version of The Odd Couple came with a second lp, which was the whole record IN REVERSE! BACKWARDS!!! Faithful readers of the aQ list know how much we love backwards music, so needless to say, the vinyl version of this is ESSENTIAL. So much so that since we got the lp we pretty much ONLY listen to the backwards disc. All dizzying and slippery and swoopy and trippy and, well, gloriously backwards! But be warned, we only have a couple copies, and have had trouble getting any more than that. We just wanted to give mailorder folks a chance to grab one of these
But just in case, some tripped out backwards Gnarls Barkley isn't enough for you, well, here's what we had to say about the UN-backwards side:
Summer Jam lightning rarely strikes twice, and in the case of Gnarls Barkley fluke hit, "Crazy", they were lucky lightning struck at all. So instead of setting out for the impossible, they have made a more memorable full length without the erratic stylistic leaps and goofs of their debut. The tone is darker, but more soulful and while the upbeat jams are fewer, they have enough hooks to keep you listening and coming back. While St. Elsewhere was neurotic and bi-polar, The Odd Couple is addressing demons in a far more beguiling and groovy manner, one that gets better with each listen. Could this be therapy?
We're running out of superlatives, not to mention overly poetic descriptions of filth and blackness and depravity, to describe this one man cinematic black doom noise outfit, but with every record, Mories, the man behind the beast, offers still more glimpses into what lurks below, or within, the sound an ever evolving cloud of black energy, rendered audible in shades of pummeling drum plod, of downtuned melting riffs, of howled and shrieked vocalizations, of Bernard Hermann like strings, all stretched and blurred and smeared and tangled into a veritable symphony of black bleak heaviness.
It's difficult to classify, as every song tends to slip seamlessly from Wolf Eyes like industrial soundscapery, to Godflesh like metal machine crunch, to lurching Abruptum like black ritual, to almost classic sounding black metal buzz, to haunting cinematic dark ambience, each of those elements fully realized, but then hurled into a black sonic vortex, where along with all the various other sounds and shapes and colors it gets mangled and tangles and spewed out on the other side as some almost living thing, a music that is at once threatening and caustic, harrowing and hateful, but also weirdly melodic and almost classical sounding, a definite case of black(ened) beauty.
For those new to the filth encrusted soundworld that is Gnaw Their Tongues, a brief survey of song titles: "My Orifices Await Ravaging", "The Stench Of Dead Horses On My Breath And The Vile Of Existence In My Hands", "The Gnostic Ritual Consumption Of Semen As Embodiment Of Wounds Teared In The Soul", the album title: All The Dread Magnificence Of Perversity, the crown of thorns / blood splattered / bondage cover art, should all give hints as to what sort of sinister sound lurks inside, but again, all of that could point to something much more puerile and simplistic, the sound of Gnaw Their Tongues is something altogether more refined, if a word like that could be applied to something this hellish, but it does sound refined, and composed, epic and majestic, for every bit of sluggish heaviness, there's another part that is hauntingly beautiful, or strangely serene, it boggles the mind how someone creates music like this, it must come from some deep, dark, black part of the soul, and while we ourselves might fear such a place in ourselves, we can't help but be enthralled and obsessed with the sort of sonic darkness that lurks in others.
WAY recommended, as with past GGT releases...
You can definitely tell a lot about a band by the names of records and song titles. Case in point: Gnaw Their Tongues. Some song titles: "My Body is Not a Vessel, Nor a Temple. It's a Repulsive Pile of Sickness", "And There Will Be More of Your Children Dead Tomorrow", "Blood Spills Out Of Everything I Touch", "Sound the Horns, the Water is Poisoned". Some album titles: Spit at Me and Wreak Havoc on My Flesh, Preferring Human Skin Over Animal Fur, Dawn Breaks Open Like A Wound That Bleeds Afresh, Spasming and Howling, Bowels Loosening and Bladders Emptying, Vomiting, and now this, An Epiphanic Vomiting of Blood. But then what is it exactly that we can glean from these titles? That the men in Gnaw Their tongues are demented? Sick? Depraved? Probably. But where titles like this might lead one to assume the music attached to the above words would be some sort of hateful harsh white noise, or some sort of near unlistenable Whitehouse worship, the truth is, Gnaw Their Tongues is one of the few bands with an utterly distinctive and recognizable sound. There are very few bands we can think of, even amongst our favorites. You will absolutely never confuse the music of Gnaw Their Tongues with any other outfit. And conversely, you will never hear something that is not them, and assume it is, because NOTHING sounds anything like Gnaw Their Tongues.
So much so that even explaining their sound in a review is fairly difficult. The last GTT review, we resorted to a tale of hell and hellbound journeys, of total annihilation and utter destruction, of death and decay and misery, all in a bid to evoke the same sort of images and visions, thoughts and feelings that are evoked by the sounds these guys produce.
It's definitely not black metal, but it is most certainly black. If forced to describe their sound in some succinct, and non-rambling manner, it might be cinematic operatic orchestral avant industrial doom. But since we can ramble, it might be easier to dig a little deeper.
Every song is epic, like little films, sounds evoking images, evoking thoughts and emotions, horns and orchestral stabs, flutes and strings, are as much a part of the sound as guitars. Probably more so. Thick gristly slabs of buzzing low end, crawl beneath pummeling percussive plod, operatic vocals soar and wail, bits of electronic glitch and whir drift in and out, guitars are downtuned and allowed to spread like toxic oil spills, tracks are peppered with bits of dialogue, and snippets of films, found sounds and mysterious textures, occasionally, harsh hellish blackened shrieks join the fray, as do bits of dark ambience. There is plenty of space, the sound managing to be expansive and open, as well as claustrophobic and suffocating.
It's a bit like a black metal Arvo Part, scoring a lost Hitchcock thriller, so totally intense and emotional and epic, rife with nervous tension and extreme dread. Whenever the sound verges on white noise, or total implosion, the sound abates, leaving Bernard Hermann-ish strings, or some bit of cryptic dialogue, or some strange disembodied rhythm, before spilling forth again like black vomit. The layers of blasphemous sound piling up like blackened bodies, buzzy and filthy and grime-y but so composed, not really that chaotic at all, a controlled chaos perhaps, each sound painstakingly placed to help paint that blood red picture.
An impossible blend of metal, choral, industrial, electronic, ambient, drone, noise and blackness, a gorgeous, and gorgeously infernal concoction, every record, another chapter in some sick saga, hell swallowing the surface dwellers, misery and mayhem overtaking humanity, death and pestilence, the world a graveyard for humanity, such utter depravity conveyed in such epic and dementedly brilliant sounds, which is precisely why Gnaw Their Tongues is quickly becoming one of our favorite bands going�
We almost missed out on this one completely. Limited to 100 copies or so, we tried to order 40 and were informed they only had a handful left. So we begged and pleaded, and the label agreed to press up 40 more copies just for us, and thus for you. Whew! Since we discovered this band we've become pretty obsessed. As have you all, judging from how quick we sell out of Gnaw records. They're heavy, they're super fucked up, it's not just black metal or sludge, it's some head spinning hybrid equal parts abstract industrial, ambient collageblasting blackness, hyperspeed grind, blackdrone, harsh and hellish, but strangely musical, their last record, the recently reviewed An Epiphanic Vomiting Of Blood (they have a knack for titles too) is pretty much a shoe in for record of the year. Have a look at that review for some serious gushing.
This 3 song ep, is GTT at their most black metal. The first two tracks, while laced with bits of orchestral grandeur, and blown out crumbling bliss, spend most of their time blasting away, but even then, there are bits of melodic flair here and there, the distortion is so thick and intense, the whole thing threatens to blur into some thick whirring drone, the opener has a killer breakdown groove, utterly majestic and epic, before flitting back to the black blast. The second track is another blackened monster, furiously thrashing and convulsing wildly, but it too is peppered with bits of glimmering effulgence, and a middle breakdown where distorted guitars are pitched up and allowed to shimmer ominously like some Bernard Hermann score, before the metal drops back in, transforming the track into a pummeling slow motion Godflesh style industrial dirge that eventually launches itself back into a furious burst of grim brutality.
The final track is the creepiest of the bunch, long drawn out synth drones, wavering ominously, wrapped in bis of whir and metallic buzz, samples distorted and effected drifting amidst the swirling black ambience, the moodiness eventually overtaken by a thick wave of white noise distortion and what sounds like voices screaming in terror, finally splintering into a hellish black frenzy.
Packaged in a mini 3" dvd-style case, with full color artwork, and pressed on a black cd-r. Limited to these 40 copies, once they're gone, might be tough to convince them to make us more again...
Not sure how we first heard about Gnaw Their Tongues, pretty sure a customer recommended them, but believe us when we say that the words Gnaw Their Tongues had barely left their lips (or maybe more accurately, the words had barely left the email and reached our cerebral cortex) and we were already smitten. How could they not rule with a name like that? The question was merely HOW they would rule, dark and creepy? Heavy and harsh? Doom? Blacknoise? Drone? Howabout all of those?! Oh yeah, it's almost like someone snuck into the AQ barracks in the middle of the night to scan our minds and see what kind of bands we dreamed about, the bands our subconscious really wished existed.�
They took all the data back to their lair, the one hidden beneath that big scary mountain, and spent years analyzing it, and creating equations, chemicals, compounds, months in an underground lab, until eventually the whole project was forgotten.�
Until years later, when a record store employee was hiking and discovered the ruins of some old, well, it looked like a fortress, maybe a lair, and decided, against all the wisdom gleaned from a million after school specials, to explore. Way down deep in the dusty recesses of this old forgotten lair, this record store feller discovered some sort of portal, rusted shut it seemed, and adorned with messages in some strange language, an alien tongue if you will, they looked like warnings, but what the heck, shit like that only happens in horror movies, so the feller went about trying to unlock the portal, and after what seemed like ages, the lock clicked, and the rusty metal swung open, and suddenly all was blackness, and dripping red, and agony and misery, and hell embodied on earth, in the form of this filthy black musick.�
That filthy black musick was this, the first recorded document by these mysterious black beasties known as Gnaw Their Tongues. Who spew forth a caustic noxious ultradoom. A black metallized lurch and stumble, harsh, hellish vocals buried beneath an avalanche of corrosive guitar, strange alien ambience, and mechanical monster drumming. Horrible and grotesque and dizzyingly brutal, but with tiny vestiges of beauty and melody, occasionally visible through the dense black sonic fog. Stretches of distorted doom verging on the beautiful, separating gut wrenching squalls of utter black chaos. And that's just the first track.�
The second is like the first, only fast. Really fast. Like sticking your head into the middle of a lightning storm. Like Velvet Caccoon and Wold and Amacoma all playing simultaneously, at full volume, broadcast through Konono's PA, untiil your ears bleed, but it's not all pain and suffering, this� whirling world of sound is again strangely melodic, twisted into some almost pop like shapes, but always quickly bathed in blackness and sent spinning� back into the fray.�
"29 Needles" is a step away from the end, and is some sort of industrial plod, a garish landscape of bleak brutality, sparse ultradistorted percussion, clouds of caustic whir, creepy ghostlike voices, the sort of sounds that make Wolf Eyes sound like the Carpenters. A musical death march through a world of fire and death and destruction, of keening musical misery and downtuned sonic punishment.�
Finally, the prophecy is complete with once the sounds of "Die Mutter Wahlt Das Todtenkleidchen" reach the ears of mortal man. The plants wither and the sky grows dim, our hearts beat slower and our blood begins to boil, the earth begins to crack, and slowly we sink into the depths of the underworld, and this is the sound that the end of all things makes. A lonely slowed down low end caterwaul, a rumbling whir peppered with jagged streaks of harsh noise, thick swells of coruscating sonic malevolence, storm clouds of hiss and buzz, a pounding skull splitting din from the heavens, an electrical storm that singes every nerve in your body, leaving you paralyzed, supine, blind, and mute, with only your ears ringing painfully, just barely able to make out the dying gasps of life as we know it.
Latest ep of cinematic doom dirge black ambience from this freaky one man band, and like past missives, this stuff is gorgeous, sick, confusing, heavy, fucked up, noisy, mysterious, cinematic, epic, disturbing and totally brilliant.
It's supposedly an ep, but it's almost an hour long, and for most folks an hour of this punishment is all you could take.
Check out some of our other Gnaw reviews, to read our gushing descriptions of the super evocative sound world GTT is able to conjure up, we wrote endlessly about bleak barren wastelands, charred bodies, horrific site and sounds, it's almost easier to describe the images and ideas that this music evokes that it is to describe the sounds themselves. But we'll have a go.
Imagine Abruptum scoring films and you might have a rough idea: strings soar, horns moan and bleat, industrial percussion is laced throughout, vocals are disembodied guttural howls, melodies creep through blackened soundscapes of buzz and pound, opening up into expanses of creak and clatter, laced with samples and found sounds, all floating above a sea of tense dronemusic, everything wrapped in swirling clouds of black sludge, and doomic rumbles. The clouds occasionally part, revealing some intimate moment, whether musical and dramatic, agonized wailing, or some strange dialogue, usually tangled up with some gloomy melody, some stumbling rhythm, before exploding again into a cacophonous blast of epic cinematic blacknoize.
This record doesn't deviate too much from past releases, which is just fine with us, it sounds like we're just digging deeper into the scarred psyche behind Gnaw Their Tongues, the most notable difference might be the presence of more sampled strings, and the record's closer which is a gorgeous buzzing midtempo black metal dirge, that manages to sound grim and raw, but also weirdly melodic and emotional.
GTT is one of the few bands who manages to create an absolutely unique sound, an impossible doom / black metal / ambient hybrid that fuses all of those various sounds perfectly into something that is both all and none of those. And as always, garish artwork, this time a topless woman preparing to emasculate a supine nude man, and of course song titles like "The Uncomfortable Silence In Between Beatings" and "My Womb Is Barren And I Want Revenge".
Fucked up and genius and thus absolutely recommended.
If for some reason you missed out on the last Gnaw Their Tongues release, a super limited cd-r now unfortunately out of print, and aren't yet as ridiculously obsessed with these guys as we are, we can get you up to speed pretty easily. Beyond the evocative name, there's the record title: Reeking Pained and Shuddering, and how about the song titles: "Blood Spills Out Of Everything I Touch", "Destroying Is Creating" or "Nihilism; Tied Up And Burning". And if you still don't have even a rough idea of what you're in for, there's always the music itself, a roiling sonic cesspool of unfettered abject brutality and buzzing murky malevolence. A sort of black metal doom noise hybrid, like Abruptum jamming with Wolf Eyes but slowed way dooooooown, dipped in tar, rolled in dirt and shoved staggering and bloody out of your speakers.
But this isn't just noisy, or heavy or brutal, each song is strangely nuanced, and manages to veer wildly all over the sonic map without losing cohesiveness, each track is like a mini epic, with movements, moods, a convoluted song structure that is tangled and serpentine but that has some alien logic.
Take the 8+ minute opening track "Blood Spills Out Of Everything I Touch", which begins with a lurching industrial plod, all lo-fi Godflesh pound and pummel, in a swirling cloud of grey fog FX, but then, the riffs take on some horror movie like cinematic ambience, somehow sounding orchestral and majestic, before falling apart into some strange shuffling skittering krautdoom, peppered with what sounds like horns, snippets of dialogue, and huge booming downtuned crashes, until everything peels back, just leaving a weird smear of rumbling drones and smeared carnival music, beneath a super creepy monologue from some film, appropriately gruesome, the music in the background looping and more and more ominous, eventually building to a near static symphony of vacuum cleaner whir, above a skeletal framework of skittery percussion, and moaning creaking collapsing-building downtuned riffage. And that's just one song.
"Utter Futility Of Creation" begins with super sinister soundtracky strings, before the hammer falls and the record resumes its monstrous lurch, but the strings never go away, they trill and soar and scrape in the background, adding super dramatic tension and furthering the idea that this record might be the soundtrack to the scariest movie ever made. Here and there the band bow out, leaving the strings to weave an ominous swirl of sonic terror and panic, the band pulsing in the background, as if waiting to pounce, again what sound like horns join the fray. It's like what Goblin might have sounded like had they grown up on a steady diet of grindcore and black metal. "Nihilism; Tied Up And Burning" begins as another chunk of lost cinematic black ambience with female operatic vocals over a dark black whirl of thrum and throb, before a grinding looped riff surfaces and the band launch into a blasting slab of black metal, but all tangled up with those haunting vocals, and bathed in a fuzz so thick it sounds like it was recorded by Tim Hecker or Christian Fennesz, but so much more harsh and harrowing. Much of the rest of the record leans toward the ambient, with the buzzing guitars washed out into dense drones, more fucked up field recordings and samples, processed vocals, whirring alien loops, howled moaned voices, but still with the occasional stretch of pounding percussion, or wall of impossibly detuned guitar, everything crumbling and filthy, frightening and seriously fucked up. Definitely one of our new favorite bands.
Some of this stuff is previously released, mostly on outrageously limited cd-r's and cassette releases, so while some of you collector fiends might have one or two of these tracks, as far as the rest of us are concerned, this fresh musical meat!
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!! Housed in a white dvd case, with full color artwork and printed heavy paper insert.
The return of our favorite one man blackened noise drenched cinematic doomscape wrecking crew, with a super limited single, only 300 copies, of which we got about 40. Already sold out and out of print, so act fast if you want one of these filthy little black slabs.
And filthy they are, and heavy, and noisy, and most definitely the most metal thing we've heard from GTT to date. Two tracks, both sound cut from the same blood soaked cloth, relentless blast beats and drum machine splatter buried beneath thick oozing layers of churning downtuned black buzz, underpinned by tripped out keyboards, and some super harsh processed vokills. Occasionally moaning slabs of woozy drone surface, or the vocals become even more garbled, but the pace remains frenetic. Both sides feature a breakdown of sorts, the A side finds the sound slipping into some weird sort of soundtracky Goblin territory, all queasy synths and creepy minor key melodies, epic and cinematic, but still filthy and grimy and lo-fi, while the B-side introduces some haunting spoken word, over a dense swirl of drones and hums and buzzing, before exploding again into a guitar drenched blacknoise outro.
Awesome as always, and again, already OUT OF PRINT. These are the last copies, we, you or anyone else will ever see.
Originally released as two separate, ultra limited vinyl volumes, this sprawling psychedelic opus has finally been combined onto epic psychedelic songsuite, all on one shiny aluminum disc - which gives us a chance to make it our Record Of The Week, which was impossible before.
Unlike Gnod's more experimental electronic Presents... Dwellings & Druss lp, which we reviewed recently, Chaudelande finds the band in full on kosmiche space-psych mode, the sort of thing fans of outfits like Carlton Melton, White Hills, The Heads, 3 Leafs and the like, will flip for, assuming those folks aren't already heavily into Gnod. Which many probably are, as we've raved about these UK psychedelic space rockers on past lists, and who we first discovered via a split with NY space rockers White Hills. Gnod would later go on to share a split with another aQ fave, Bong, as well as releasing a clutch of their own records, which as you might assume, had all the space/psych rock fans around here flipping their lids. Chaudelande, originally released in 2012 and split into two separate 12"s, is another heady concoction of heavy psych rock bliss, swaggery space rock crunch and shimmery lysergic sonic drift, the first three tracks, originally volume 1, are sprawling epics, the shortest a little over eight minutes, the longest originally taking up a whole side at 17+. Where on past records, Gnod did a lit of drifting and spaced out shimmering, the opening track here wastes no time, well, okay, a little time spent spaced out and ethereal, before exploding into some full on space rock stomp, equal parts Hawkwind, the Stooges, heck, even a little Monster Magnet, the drums are massive, pounding away, the guitars thick, and crumbling with distortion, swaggery and spacey and seriously psychedelic, everything wreathed in swirls of effects and swaths of blurred buzz, the vocals a reverbed yelp, the bass thick and slithery, the whole thing on the edge of slipping into full on freakout. Sort of mirroring the sonic shift White Hills displayed on their most recent record. The second track dials it back a bit, drifting into a more Moon Duo-ish territory, that sort of mesmerizingly cyclical propulsive space-kraut, but Gnod mix it up by adding some thick grinding bass buzz, and clouds of constantly shifting FX, not to mention layer upon layer of swirling guitar murk and celestial shimmer, and while it does go through several permutations, at its heart, it's a seriously heady slab of blissed out zoner psych.
But then the third track displays a whole different side of Gnod's sound, opening up with some fluttery folk, wreathed in field recordings of bird calls, and all manner of voices, as if it were some hippy commune fireside jam. The sound darkens considerably, a low slung bass line driving some skeletal rhythmic shuffle, the sound hazy and fuzzy and droned out, but peppered with bursts of incendiary guitar noise, wild squalls of psychedelic freakout, wheezing organs, eventually exploding into a pounding noise jam second half, that finds the sound cranked, all the pedals pushed to their limited, the whole thing held together by a raga like buzz, heady and heavy and gloriously noisily spaced out.
The second half of the cd, originally volume 2, begins very tranquilly, with some bells and chimes, a fluttering flute, bird song, and folky chanted vocals, all driven by a simple plodding rhythm, very old timey and ritualistic sounding, but then a few minutes in, the song gradually splinters into a murky, pounding punkish churn, that sounds almost industrial, like a space rockier version of Crash Worship, tribal drumming beneath chugging crumblingly distorted riffage, wrapped in keening synth drones, and pocked with yelped reverby vox, the vibe is very Circle-like, a sort of Neanderthal space-psych hypno-rock, that does eventually transform into something that sounds almost like death rock, or some sort of goth-psych, that shuffling almost disco-y rhythm, deep crooned vocals, slithery basslines, but all nearly obscured by sheets of wah wah-ed guitar noise, pretty goddamn weird, but also one of our favorite Gnod jams yet! The follow up track Entrance, is a similarly minded sprawl of psychedelic hypno-rock. churning, pulsing, pounding, the drumming much busier, but still seriously motorik, the sound growing gradually more intense and heavy and blown out, a sort of space-punk sprawl, and the sort of mesmerizingly tranced out psychedelic space jams that end way too soon, even after 10+ minutes.
And like the first volume, the second volume (and the collected compact disc version of Chaudelande)
ends with an epic, previously sidelong mega-jam, this one the awesomely titled "Genocider", which begins with a full on "Hey Mickey" style drum beat, which is quickly buried under an avalanche of crumbling riffage and howled echo drenched megaphone vox, the song a mesmerizing space garage stomp, with the guitars growing ever more unhinged, spraying wild tangles of psych-freakout over everything, but then something strange happens, the guitars begin to recede, and the drums begin to become a bit dubby, the timbre shifting, the low end dissipating, with beats careening back and forth, the sound breaking down into a twisted brittle psych dub drum jam, before exploding right back into another stretch of roiling space stomp heaviness, that pounds on relentlessly, until crashing to a halt in a final squall of blown out noise-psych crunch. So awesome.
Eagerly anticipated new batch of tripped out voodoo-psych from these mysterious Swedes, their first for Sub Pop, and much like their debut, World Music, Commune explores much of the same sonic ground, fusing Afro Psych with fuzzy garage, lots of groovy rhythms, Eastern style melodic buzz, tranced out and hypnotic, minimally maximal, those strange, soaring female vox, we got to experience these guys (and gals) live when they were in SF not too long ago, and we were blown away, elaborate costumes, ZERO stage banter, the two vocalists dancing and gesticulating wildly for the whole set, while the rest of the band nearly faded into the shadows, but sonically, super powerful and utterly mesmerizing, and while we've only had this new record for a week or two, it definitely already has the potential to be just as addictive as World Music.
The opener here is much more sixties sounding, all sitar like buzz, and spidery guitar leads, over a relentlessly groovy tribal rhythm, the vocals swooping in here and there, but mostly the band just locked tight into some seriously heady psychedelic hypnorock. The second track darkens considerably, channeling a sound much more akin to Spacemen 3, processed pulsing guitars, minimal motorik drumbeat, definitely sounding like the results of Spacemen 3's famous MO: "taking drugs to make music to take drugs to", but with a bit of a more tribal feel, right down to what sounds like some faux field recordings at the end. "The Light Within" starts out straight up African style High Life, before those vocals come in, witchy and powerful, and then the guitars come in fuzzed out and fierce, the song a push pull between groovy tribal psych-funk and something much more hard rocking, which in a way, is where much of this record, and Goat's sound in general dwells, and it's that tension that makes it work. Some of the tracks get much more blissed out and dreamily trippy, while others are freaked out and wildly psychedelic, and still others almost sound like sixties classic rock, filtered through Goat's cracked voodoo psych rock filter, and like the first record, the closer is a doozy, the song we'd imagine they'd finish with live, a sprawling psych jam, that builds to a seriously blown out psych-noise freakout, replete with bleating horns, layered vocals wails, and dense guitar fuzz, the whole thing swirling noisy, chaotic, and dizzyingly trippy.
Like the first record, this new one comes in a fancy die cut package as well, once again with minimal liner notes.
We've been waiting for this one for ages. After an insanely limited 7" single, which was so scarce, no one we know has actually ever even seen a copy, let alone bought one, and a teaser video on YouTube, and all sorts of rumors about this Swedish band who were influenced by African music and voodoo and came from some mysterious village no one had ever heard of, well, needless to say, we were DYING for the full length, and it does not disappoint.
So the story goes, in a tiny village in Sweden called Korpolombolo, there has existed a band called Goat for generations, this is just the first incarnation of the band that has captured any of their music on tape. Supposedly the village was cursed by some sort of voodoo witch doctor, who was put to death for being a witch, and introducing voodoo worship to this tiny village. It only takes one Google search to discover that there is no such village, or so say the skeptics, but we choose to BELIEVE, and that village is just so obscure and tiny and tucked away, that it has even escaped the notice of Google. And whether it's true or not, the IDEA of it definitely influences the music of Goat, whose sound most definitely has a serious African vibe, the percussion, the vocals, it's heady concoction of wild psychedelic space rock, all driving krautrock rhythms, and tangled squalls of electric guitar freakout, and dense rhythmic percussion, and almost double dutch sounding vocals. When we first threw this on, our first impression was that it sounded like a weird mix of Konono No.1, The Heads and (believe it or not) the Go! Team, which even now, after constant listening doesn't seem that far off.
The tracks are dense, and psychedelic, heavy, fuzzy, definitely Stooges-y at times, Hawkwindy at others, several of the tracks display a Miles Davis style grooviness, sounding like a SUPERCHARGED ultra heavy Bitches Brew, others pound away sounding exactly how you might imagine some ancient voodoo ritual would sound reimagined by some modern Swedish psychedelic space rock outfit. "Goatman" (from the 7") is the perfect intro, after a strange sample, and some tribal drumming, the guitars come cascading in, wild squalls of psychedelic wah guitar, and keening high end wails, then the vocals come in, belted out over the fuzzed out bass, the percussion wild and groovy, it's total Swedish Afro-psych, or something, if this one track stretched out and filled up the whole record, it STILL would have been Record Of The Week.
The band do have a surprisingly broad palette though, whether it's the subdued acid folk Appalachia of "Goathead", or the organ driven Afro-groove of the appropriately titled "Disco Fever", with its percussion heavy funk swaddled in progged out organs, and then there's the equally funky "Golden Down", that sounds like some Southeast Asian Sublime Frequencies jam, but here cranked up, the guitars super distorted, the bass dangerously buzzy, the sound blissfully in-the-red, the drums wild and loose, the ultimate heavy psychedelic dance band, for those three minutes you can almost imagine these guys jamming out at the edge of the world in some alternate dimension seedy dive, with a dancefloor full of damned souls. Sweaty and swaggery and fierce as fuck. "Let It Bleed" delivers a more laid back groove, and even introduces some saxophone, which gives it the vibe once again of some psych-ed up Ethiopian groove. "Run To Your Mama" melds serious Sabbath-y riffage to some wild tribal percussion, and wailed vox, while "Goatlord" unfurls some dark psych folk, replete with super distorted heavy psych leads, over urgent strumming and cooed echo drenched vox, sounding a bit like a more psychedelic Comus in fact.
And finally, the record finishes off with the epic "Det Som Aldrig Forandras", with its bagpipe sounding opening, that quickly explodes into a heady psychedelic groove, droned out and hypnotic, the sort of jam that should/could have been ENDLESS, but instead, works its way back to a seriously heavy psychedelic coda, bookending the brief 3 minute opener, again, the sort of jam they could have stretched out for another twenty minutes, and we would have been in heaven, but the fact that it loops back around to the beginning, only adds a strange sort of endless ritual vibe to the proceedings, and makes it that much easier to play it all over again. And again. And again. Forever.
Super swank, die cut, eye popping artwork too, on the cd and lp both!
It's weird to think that amongst the legions of fans out there who LOVE Jesu, there are probably loads of folks who don't realize that Jesu was born out of the mighty behemoth that was Godflesh. Justin Broadrick, who started off in grind pioneers Napalm Death, made a quick pitstop in Head Of David, and eventually struck out on his own in Godflesh. These days, drum machines and metal are not strange bedfellows, but back in the day, this was some seriously what-the-fuck action. Metalheads and punk rockers alike were confused, but got over it pretty quick once they realized that Godflesh might just be the heaviest fiercest thing they had ever heard. And Godflesh at their heaviest was to be found right here, on Streetcleaner, adorned with the now iconic image of crucified men on crossed in front of a cascade of burning lava (a frame from the genius movie Altered States), this record, originally released in 1989, still sounds as fearsome as ever. And now that we have a handful of Jesu records to reference, it's easy to hear that some of the seeds that would eventually blossom into the dreamy shoegazy metallic bliss of Jesu, were present even back then, albeit buried beneath a black hole crush of churning downtuned riffage and blistering skull rattling programmed beats. Our old three sentence, 14 word review of this still says it best:
"One of the heaviest, scariest "metal" albums EVER. Drum machine doom death. Godflesh's best."
NOW ON VINYL!!! And holy crap if that cover doesn't look even more amazing all blown back up to its proper lp size!!
Some of you may know the name Matt Rosin from past collaborations with AQ faves Dead Raven Choir, but here, as Godheadscope, he is now called�M. Kolophonium, and is single handedly attempting to craft a sort of classical black ambience, the label suggests Arvo Part conducting and arranging a performance by Corrupted, which sounds amazing, and while we see what they're getting at, we're not sure that's wholly accurate. The label also suggests that Godheadscope is for fans of Wolfmangler, Boris, Jesu, Dead Raven Choir among others, and that really just sort of sounds like it would be for most aQuarius customers then, eh?
But this is indeed an epic and gorgeous chunk of experimental ambience. And unlike most offerings falling under the same banner, this is not simple or really minimal, not guitars against the amps SUNNO))) style drone, not lo-fi single note drones, no this is dense and layered, composed and arranged. The songs are set up in gradually developing movements, strings and synths woven into delicate frameworks, allowed to breath, to expand and contract, to swell and pulse.
The record seems to be separated into two movements, the first two tracks, are like a sonic wave pool set in motion, then slowed down and stretched out, dark languorous waves of sound, that ebb and flow, gorgeous and glacial, with extended spaces between the notes, a truly majestic and cinematic sprawl, but within the swells, there seems to be a lot going on, synths and guitars, even voices, all smeared into strangely lush organic drones, twisted into strange lovely shapes.�
The second half of the record is much more tranquil, still adhering to that swell and shimmer pattern, but everything softer and more spare, an ambience to balance the first half's energy, culminating in the moody drift of the final number, lush pianos laid over a haunting field of electrical crackle and anguished distant wails, woven into a jazzy shuffle, sounding like a super abstract tribal Necks, some freaked out kosmiche free jazz that unwinds into a gorgeous piano / feedback coda, trailing off into nothingness...
We didn't think we'd be able to get any copies of this in at all, there seemed to be some issues with the licensing or something, but somehow, finally, we managed to get a handful of these in. A super deluxe reissue of the iconic score by legendary Japanese composer Akira Ifukube, for the classic 1954 monster movie Godzilla, that's right, the ONE, the original, the monster movie that started it all, and Ifukube's score is as much a classic as the movie itself. And what better way to celebrate Godzilla's SIXTIETH birthday (and anniversary of the movie/score) than with a deluxe Death Waltz reissue! And deluxe it is, as always, but more on that in a second. The music itself is stunning, as is pretty much everything we've heard by Ifukube (in partiuclar, his score for King Kong Vs. Godzilla, which we raved about here back in 2006), a mix of lush orchestration, sinister strings and traditional Japanese folk. There is of course the instantly recognizable theme music, with it's tense, soaring strings, but then the lilting percussive exotica of "Ootojima Temple Festival", quickly followed by the droning, plodding, ominous "Stormy Ootojima Island, which builds and builds, driven by booming percussion that sound, as they're meant to, like Godzilla's lumbering footfalls, there's the jaunty military fanfare of "Japanese Army March I", which leads right into the arrival of the monster, the strings darkening, like the skies above, as the monster approaches the shore, tense and intense, the refrain from the opening theme returning, but this time even more frantic and frenzied, and then "Godzilla's Rampage", which is so scary, and creepy, the horns moaning malevolently, a funereal dirge, a haunting threnody, and so it goes. There's plenty more, and all of it's great. Has us wanting to watch the movie again to, BAD!!
And as we mentioned, Death Waltz does another fantastic job with the packaging, this time featuring striking new cover art by Cheung Chung Tat, which is reporduced inside on a folded movie theater style poster, the vinyl is a grey swirl, the music itself is presented on vinyl for the first time ever, remastered from the master tapes at Toho Studios, there's a Japanese style obi too (of course) with some liner notes and credits, and as you might imagine, this is also VERY LIMITED!!
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Goem is the post-techno production team comprised of three guys (Roel Meelkop, Peter Duimelinks, and Frans De Waard) known more for their contemporary musique concrete /drone work. For this record, Frans De Waard commissioned remixes of the material found on the "Reduktie" which embraced the hyperminimal clickery and tone generation of Mika Vainio's solo work as �. The remixologists have for the most part left a good chunk of the structure intact with a monophunk techno minimalism, but have rearranged / reconstructed / recycled the various bleeps and blips through the wonders of the laptop. Featured remixes are Stilluppsteypa, L.O.S.D., Taylor Deupree, Kim Cascone, Jos Smolders, Starfish Pool, Surge, Radboud Mens, Institut Fuer Feinmotorik, and /Slo-Fi.
Kick ass packaging aside (well over 1200 holes punched into cardstock and etched jewel case, so be careful!), Goem's "Punik" is one of the more interesting releases in the current deluge of lowercase / post-techno albums. Using a Student Simulator (simply qualified as a device used in medical school, for what, we don't really know) and a broken Doctor Rhythm drum machine triggering Boucle synthesizers at Stockholm's EMS Studios, "Punik" percolates with electron squiggles and ping-pong motorik slabs of rhythm, that could be the sound equal to Bridget Riley's Op-Art modernism.
In a world (our world at least) full to overflowing with drone records, dirge records, doom records, and yes, dirgedoomdrone records, the mysterious Gog have somehow always managed to transcend. From their very first release, the subtly spectacular Noriah Mills, Gog have continued to mine similar territory as so many other soundmakers, but with the resultant whole so much more than its constituent parts.
The music of Gog, while on the surface, perhaps seemingly simple, minimal, abstract, is the sort of sound that requires deep listening, upon which, the guitars then reveal themselves as so much more than electronic tone generators, the long strands of feedback and the layers of dense billowy buzz, so much more than just texture and timbre. And while on past releases, the band hinted at something a bit more black, their occasionally blissed out ambience drifting into darker and darker greys, on Mist From The Random More, the band have fully committed, creating what for them is a haunting otherworldly black metal suite, a droned out, blissed out, buzz drenched, almost static expanse of smoldering grimness, shot through with glimmering glistening effulgence, a bit like wrapping a black gauze around an exploding sun, the results, again, transcendent.
The record begins with a gorgeous, slow burning bit of guitar drone, that owes more to the kosmiche sounds of krautdrone than the downtuned glacial fug of more doom-ed entities. These guitars soar and shimmer, warm gouts of feedback enfolded by deep rich sheets of coruscating soft focus heaviness, any other band would stretch this out to fill up a whole album, and rightfully so, we'd probably be gushing just as much if Gog chose to do the same thing, but these Sunroof-ian solar sonics are only part of Gog's grand vision for Mist From The Random More.
The title track, taking up the bulk of the record, finds Gog fully immersing themselves in black metal, or at least their (very) loose approximation of what black metal is, or could be. The sound is grim, and frosty, but only in the sense that it reflects much of the black metal that came before, in every other way, it's anything but, the guitars glow, the riffs are fluid, organic, wrapped in a soft burnished buzz, that reminds us a bit of Jesu or Nadja, but the arrangement is more Necks. In fact, a shorthand descriptor might be "a black metal Necks", which if you're anything like us, would be all it would take. Simple skittery minimal drumming, almost looped sounding if it weren't so abstract, beneath a roiling cloud of layered guitars, grinding and whirring and hissing, and within that cloud, some gorgeously melancholic low end melodies, difficult to describe the strange blend of loveliness and heaviness, but there it is, a distinctly lovely heaviness, washed out and blurry, and hypnotic and epic and melodic, within this seemingly static structure, the sound swings and slips through various incarnations, moving from total blurred buzz, to a more slowcore lope, always wreathed in swirling clouds of blackened shimmer, until the end, when the track explodes in climax of effects drenched psychedelic churn.
The closing track offers a chance to decompress, a strange assemblage of soothing tones, shot through with streaks of feedback, very cool and clinical, almost a Raster-Noton sort of sound, there's a brief burst of super distorted crumbling sonic chaos, almost Merzbowian in its intensity, transforming into a haunting post industrial doomscape, before again returning to the relative tranquility of the first few minutes, eventually leaving just a single upper register tone, which also finally fades into the shadows.
Another fantastic record from Utech (after a whole mess of incredible releases, including last list's Aluk Todolo Record Of The Week), gorgeous packaging, an abstract skull, rendered in some kind of white dust (cocaine?), on a spare black background, a gatefold with printed liner notes inside, and yes, probably limited...
In the early days, Gog, aka Mike Bjella, trafficked in straight up blackened drones, thick slabs of monolithic heaviness, but with each record, that sound got weirder, more difficult to classify, and more removed from that more primal, metal drone sound. This trajectory culminated in Gog's last record, Ironworks, which was mostly sourced from the sounds of the Bjella family blacksmith shop, and found Bjella fusing that early blackness, with something more minimal and hypnotic. We mentioned Aussie minimal jazz trio the Necks, and on the first track on this brand new self titled Gog record, we feel like we have to mention them again, cuz that track lays down a thick backdrop of rumbles and whirs, punctuated by a weird subtly distorted rhythm, over which haunting, melancholic piano drifts and loops, super moody and mesmerizing, those background sounds gradually building momentum, and slowly overtaking that jazziness, burying it beneath moaning sheets of sound, keening slabs of metallic buzz and clouds of gristly static, eventually transforming into something almost black metal sounding, maybe via Skullflower, a frenzied guitar riff, and buried vocals, blurred into a woozy blackened swirl.
Not all of the record is so subtle or avant, as quickly the sound evolves into something way more metallic, pounding, weirdly produced drums over more harsh vokills so low in the mix, they almost sound like white noise, while swirling all around, more black buzz, the sound gradually darkening and deepening and becoming a sort of feedback drenched noise rock doom, all plodding and lumbering, and at times sounding like a breakbeat slowed down to a near crawl. But still there's no way to pin down what's going on. The next track is a barely there field of static, a deem resonant thrum, crafted from sonic gristle, while the next track begins as a dark torch song like ballad, all lush sonic swells and female vocals, haunting and almost liturgical, before exploding, quite suddenly into some seriously muddy, muted, and blown out black metal murk. And finally, things finish off with some noise flecked, loping slowcore, the piano returns once again, wrapped around a laid back rhythm, the whole thing a dark jazzy drift wrapped in clouds of caustic noise, exploding in a final bust of churning heaviness, a howling black-psych frenzy still somehow underpinned by that moody, mysterious darkjazz. So good. Definitely recommended for fans of moody, minimal heaviness, and haunting, abstract, metallic minimalism. Includes a download code!
The return of the peculiarly monickered Gog, a one man practitioner of the dark musical arts, able to whip up huge swaths of drifting droney shimmer as easily as a crushing avalanche of corrosive slow motion riffage. More often than not some glorious grey area right in the middle.�
Here Gog is teamed up with the unknown to us Apparatia, who proves to be a worthy match up.�
Gog begins the proceedings with a 25 minute epic, blown out and buzzy, recorded SUPER hot and way in the red, a strange creepy soundscape of metallic clang, and huge reverbed guitar, not riffing, just sort of shimmering and vibrating, everything suspended amidst a barren sprawl of decay and delay, until everything explodes, and the track is transformed into an impossibly distorted, barely moving glacial wall of sound, the production so hot, the speakers seem on the verge of collapse, a massive spacious dirge that like other Gog stuff, manages to be lovely amidst all those jagged edges and crumbling chaos. Partway through, the guitars blur into just a long stretch of distorted whir, while beneath, the bass and drums continue to plod along, a strange slowed down groove buried beneath roiling clouds of fuzz. Gog finishes off his half the split with a little minute or so long chunk of random sound, peppered with vocals, a haunting little fragment of creepy ambience.�
Apparatia are in fact a grim buzzing black metal behemoth, who right out of the gate, first song, launch into some seriously grim blasting, super distorted and ultra sick, the vocals a demonic croak, the guitars a blurry buzz, the drums another static roar buried in the mix. But the band do mix it up, weaving haunting clean guitar interludes, with the harsh super affected vocals crooning hellishly over the top. Raw and primitive, and gloriously intense and brutal, the�vocals and guitars in a constant battle of the buzz, the recording quality sort of damaged and lo-fi, making for some Faxed Head like audio damage. Pretty fucking cool for sure. Definitely need to hear more from these guys. But for now, this is a seriously killer one two punch, one part slow motion sludge, one part grim, buzzing fury.�
AMAZING PACKAGING. A printed sheet of metal, black on silver, super heavy, like the music inside, text and images affixed to the back, the cd housed in a black and silver metallic paper sleeve, with mysterious blurred images and liner notes. Sticker on the front,�LIMITED TO 100 COPIES!!!! Each one hand numbered. We got 40 and that's it. Once these are gone, we will not be able to get more...
All it took was about 30 seconds, and we knew this was probably gonna become out favorite new electronica record, heck, maybe just our favorite new record period. The best way we can think to describe Gold Panda is like a more lo-fi DIY version of The Field, if that makes any sense. Where The Field take samples, and loops and layers them, rendering them almost unrecognizable, and creating lush house-y soundscapes, Gold Panda does something quite similar, but without the goal of disguising the source or the samples, a vocal loop is chopped up and processed and woven into a stuttering melody, over a simple looped beat, and warm whirling melodies, that looped sample makes the whole thing sound so playful, and at least on the opener, "You", whose sample is the word 'you' chopped and looped, that melody ends up sounding strangely Indian, like some electro raga, although over the course of the track, the tone and timbre and pitch changes, so it slips from Oval like shimmer, to skittery faux Indian raga, to loping super melodic playful trip hop.
And the whole record is like that, the construction of the tracks is obvious, the glitch and static and crackle and pop of the source records, are all part of the sound, the samples assembled to create rhythms, to fashion melodies, draped over whirring skeletal beats, woven into Philip Jeck like cracklescapes, gamelan like melodies are layered into a lush tangle of melodies and placed atop a sea of hiss and a spare stripped down beat, soft melodic swells are truncated and left to rise and fall, creating a woozy rhythm, the whole thing wrapped in playful chimes and clipped minimal beats, every track is playful and lovely and dreamy in its own way, not so dependent on the beat, as much as the arrangement of samples, which is inevitably perfect, and conjures up the perfect mood and atmosphere.
There are some definitely oddballs, the two minutes of folky acoustic guitar on "Parents", that manages to be quite pretty and sweet on its own, and fit with the rest of the more sample heavy tracks pretty perfectly, there's also the buzzy sitar laced "India Lately", which does chop up Indian ragas, sitars and tablas, and weaves those parts into a gorgeously shoegazy stretch of pop ambience, and finally, the record finishes off by revisiting "You", this time with strings and chimes, and a less manic arrangement, instead opting for something much more subdued and dreamlike.
So great! All this amazing electronica coming out lately, we can't get enough, but this one just might take the cake!
I just realised we have never listed any Pond records. Which is a crying shame as they are responsible for two of my favorite records EVER, having slowly mutated from a dirgy grungy (they were on Sub Pop after all) sludgy rock band, to a gorgeously lush and quirky pop band, making one of the greatest pop records ever, Rock Collection. That major label debut disappeared from the radar without even a blip, most likely resulting in the end of the band. We'll remedy the Pond situation on some later list, but for now, we can talk about the new album from Pond mainman Charlie Campbell, and his new band Goldcard, which is essentially Pond (it features one of the other two Pond guys) as well as Quasi frontman Sam Coomes and a bunch of other folks. This is gorgeously quirky, super catchy really really strange indie pop, but the strangeness in no way interferes with the pop-ness, in fact it only serves to make it sound miles more original than any of the other folks reaping greater rewards than the way more deserving Campbell and his Goldcard. Campbell has an unbelievable knack for interesting arrangements/instrumentation and unlikely melodies, so unlikely in fact, that they stick in your head like bubble gum on hot asphalt. Seriously. And the lyrics are absure and surreal, about bunnies and cars and random weirdness, but are somehow achingly perfect in capturing moods and emotions, without resorting to actually talking about them. A rare gift indeed. Goldcard almost sounds like a much more intimate, stripped down Pond record, with less emphasis on the rock, and more on arrangements, and moods and experimenting, which is a good thing. The record starts off with this weird shimmering guitar part (which was all over the last Pond record), that Campbell talks about in the liner notes, realising that he didn't in fact invent it but inadvertently stole it from the Flaming Lips. All the songs have extensive notes that only tangentially relate to the songs themselves and are really funny! Once again, when I'm faced with a record that I am digging SO MUCH and listening to non-stop, I feel like no matter what or how much I write I can't do it justice or explain just why it's so good. And it is SO GOOD! Fans of the Flaming Lips, Grandaddy, Pond obviously, Built To Spill, Quasi, Modest Mouse and all that plaintive, moody, catchy indie pop will be rewarded greatly and maybe have a new treasure trove of perfect mixtape material!
Superior black metal with raspy vocal screams, buzzing guitar, symphonic masses of sound, and an undefinable weird vibe. Long an unknown, unsung masterpiece. Austrian black metal obscurity Golden Dawn originally released "The Art Of Dreaming" in 1996 on the now-defunct Dark Matter label and it was just about impossible to find even when it was in print. It's been a favorite of Andee and Allan ever since one of the guys in Weakling turned 'em on to it a few years back, and have always wanted to track down copies to share with AQ customers. Of course we were thrilled when out of the blue, Napalm reissued (& remastered) this disc, and also -- ohmigod -- released a brand-new second Golden Dawn album, which we'll review here next time. For now, though, just bow down to this one. It's just an incredible piece of idiosyncratic metallic dark art, with majestic medieval riffs, bizarre keyboard interludes, and schizoid changes (from techno-ish jams to Magmoid choruses to gothic folk). We'd compare it to Satyricon or Cradle Of Filth maybe, it's certainly that good, but unlike anything else exactly. Solid, original black metal. Anyway, now it's got a second chance to be recognized as a classic. This reissue's got so-so new artwork (definitely not up to the amazing art and design of the original digipak release, oh well -- I think they stole that cover art and had to change it), but the tracks are the same as the original, and is thus highly recommended.
MPEG Download: "My Confession To War" [/audio/goldendawnmyconfession.mp3]
It's always a little nerve wracking listening to a friend's record. Hoping that it's good so you don't have to hem and haw and eventually say something like "Wow...really interesting" or "Wow. Great guitar sound" or some other non-committal could-be-construed-as-saying-you-like-the-record sort of thing. So it's even more intense when it's someone's -first- record. But luckily, this time, there was no need to worry, 'cause this Golden Hotel record is a gorgeous, droney, space-y, drugged out psychedelic folk record. Golden Hotel is our customer Cayce (who has appeared in several of the AQ neighborhood films, he's the bearded fellow with the dog Cowboy) and his brother Sidney who is in AQ faves Torrez. And the Torrez connection definitely shows, with shimmery guitars and warm thick atmosphere, but the female vocals of Torrez are replaced with the brothers' rough but melodic warm warbly rasps and the sound is a little less lush and a bit more buzzing and immediate (plenty of instrument buzz, lip smacking, breathing). Warm swells of thick guitar wash over shimmering high end harmonics whirling quietly in the background as gently strummed acoustic guitar underpins delicate minor key melodies. Lots of stray sounds, varied instrumentation and production fuckery augment these ultimately simple folk songs, turning them into languid, stoned epics, with simple stumbling percussion, fuzzy far-away guitar, droning buzzing harmonies, pulsing underwater bass, and dreamy blissed out ambience. Definitely influenced by/reminiscent of Greg Weeks, Six Organs Of Admittance, Charalambides, Joshua, Songs:Ohia, Herman Dune, and other current practitioners of modern psych-folk. A great surprise and a fantastic record.
We reviewed a record by a drone combo called Number None a while back. We didn't know too much about it or them, but what we did know was that the sound those guys produced was totally up our alley. Definitely drone based, but all over the map, wrapping various drones around all sorts of varied sonic elements, somehow creating a more cohesive whole than would seem possible.
So now we have the debut from this Chicago duo, called Golden Sores, which just so happens to feature one of the guys from Number None, and in the Golden Sores, the focus is much more defined, and the two craft an incredible collection of heavy buzzing dronemusic. Each track here a sprawling ever expanding black cloud of sound, from grinding low end rumbles, to effulgent sun dappled shimmer, some tracks take the murk of Sunn 0))) but spread it out and blur it into something more soothing and tranquil, others channel the urdrone rituals of Sunroof! through their own dirt smeared sonic filter. Some of the tracks slip into an almost late period Earth-like gospel Americana, but rendered in shades of grey and in smeared streaks of soft focus shimmer, and still others are swirling effects drenched expanses of outer space exploration.
The closing track gets downright nasty, adding a layer of crumbling distortion to a drone that sound like it was assembled from chanted voices, the two elements wrestling against one another until finally finding stasis and allowing a lilting melody to surface amidst the grind and buzz.
Totally gorgeous. If you like any of the above mentioned bands, or outfits like Tunnels, Svarte Greiner, Eternal Tapestry, Pussygutt, Half Makeshift, and other minimal cd-r dronelords, the Golden Sores will be your new favorite affliction.
Beautiful packaging. LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each one hand numbered...
We first heard Golden Void, via their debut single on local label Valley King, and were immediately blown away, so much so that we could pretty much only muster up a bunch of wild gushing to explain how much we loved it. It went like this:
"Golden Void's sound is SO kick ass and SO hits the spot, totally heavy, hooky, groovy stoner rock, big riffs, lots of organ, soaring vocals, and yeah, of course some seriously shredding leads, totally catchy, a modern take on some mix of all your teenage faves, Kiss, Thin Lizzy, Skynrd, just totally rocking, laced with plenty of psychedelic swirl, and a distinctly laid back classic rock vibe. Also reminds us a LOT of aQ stoner rock faces Freedom Hawk, the A side of this here single, might be THEE rocking jam of the summer. And we're thinking that when these guys come out with a full length, we might just have us a new favorite record..."
Well, we pretty much called it, cuz these guys DO have a new record, and it most absolutely IS our new favorite, in fact, we got a copy a while back, even though it only just came out, and it has to be one of THEE most played records in the store, by pretty much everyone here, and almost every time we played it, customers in the store had to find out what it was, and more often than not, ordered themselves a copy.
So yeah, Golden Void is the new band from Earthless' Isaiah Mitchell, along with Camilla Saufley-Mitchell (his wife?) from Assemble Head In Sunburst Sound, as well as few other locals, and they have come up with easily the best retro rock, heavy psych record of the year. In addition to the above mentioned outfits, we hear plenty of Captain Beyond, Ozzy era Sabbath, Blue Oyster Cult, even Witchcraft, the sound is heavy and hooky, the songs good enough to actually BE classic rock tunes, not just sounding like them, had this record come out in 1976, we'd be hearing this shit on classic rock radio non stop. Sun baked and blown out, more mellow than metallic, very California-esque in its vibe, a totally classic, vintage seventies sound, right down to the recording, and again, the songs. We can't tell you how many bands have the sound nailed but not the songs, but every track here is perfect, and impossibly catchy, the sort of songs you'll have stuck in your head forEVER.
"Art Of Invading" starts things off, organ driven proto metal psychedelic radness, wild drumming, the vocals bathed in reverb, the sound stone-y and heavy, super dynamic, and it is Mitchell's band after all, so plenty of super melodic, wildly shredding leads. "Virtue" cranks things up a notch, and weirdly reminds us of the sort of sound that aQ faves Malachai were conjuring up in the studio, super heavy, riffy, laid back vox, and hooks galore, and the drumming, holy shit, crazy busy, but perfect for the song, which leads directly into "Jetsun Dolma", the slow groover of the record, the psychedelic ballad, that has a bit of an Allman Brothers vibe, laced with woozy swirls of washed out organ, and killer wah guitar.
It's at this point that the record gets REALLY good. Even better than the first half. "Badlands" might be our most played song on the record, with its churning organ heavy groove, crazy catchy chorus, and killer proggy breakdown midsong. Then come the two tracks from the Valley King single, which along with "Badlands", are absolutely the perfect retro psych heavy rock one-two-three punch. "Shady Grove" is the band at their poppiest, and sort of Southern rockiest, such a goddamn great song, and the main melody, especially when Mitchell solos off of it, untouchable. And then there's "The Curve", which might be even poppier, but is also heavier, some of us hear Kiss like crazy, but a smarter, heavier, more psychedelic version of Kiss, more killer guitar harmonies, and probably the catchiest leads on the whole record. There's also the bluesy breakdown midsong, which is so seventies, Mitchell lacing it with all sorts of subtle guitar shreddery, and then the slow build back to the main riff, pretty much impossible to resist headbanging or air guitaring or BOTH.
Finally, the record finishes off with "Atlantis", which might be the most psychedelic of the bunch, with its slithery main melody, and washed out vocals, the whole thing hazy and tripped out, but still heavy and groovy, slipping from the dense drum heavy verses, to the soaring swoonsome chorus, the two separated by a super cool angular guitar break. The second half of the track adds extra guitar shred, and a bit of sonic heft, before the music drops out, leaving just the vocals to fade out in a druggy haze.
Holy shit. Even after maybe a hundred listens, we're still not tired of this. Anyone into any of the above mentioned outfits, as well as obviously Earthless, Assemble Head, Comets On Fire, etc. will definitely lose their shit over these guys, as will most folks into heavy, hooky retro rock heavy psych radness, which we're guessing is probably a whole lot of YOU.
Endless Bummer is such a good name for a record. Usually we're not all that into puns as titles (or band names), but Endless Bummer manages to be a pun, while sort of flipping the spirit of the original inside out. We always wanted to call a record Endless Bummer, but we've now been beat to the punch TWICE. At least. Once in the nineties by Further, whose Endless Bummer was an effervescent chunk of in the red post-Pavement slacker Beach Boys worship, and now this record right here, by the mysteriously named Good Stuff House, whose own particular Endless Bummer is much darker and more sedate, a sprawling drift of minimal shimmer and fluttery folk enveloped by dense clouds of natural reverb and billows of soft buzz.
We didn't know too much about Good Stuff House, we had another cd-r that we dug quite a bit, but which went out of print before we could get enough to review, but now we know just why we liked GSH so much, it's the two guys from dronedrift duo Zelienople, and none other than long time aQ fave, guitarist Scott Tuma, he of the legendary Souled American as well as a clutch of amazing solo records (including a recent record of the week). Pretty much hard to go wrong. And Endless Bummer is further proof of just how far from wrong these guys can get....
Apparently Endless Bummer was recorded in unorthodox spaces, warehouses, churches, basements, and it's not just the band performing live, but much like Taj Mahal Travellers 30 years earlier, who would record various performances, then broadcast them into the space, playing along live, often more than once, every step adding more and more murk and buzz and reverb and echo, the sound getting less and less distinct, until it became the sound of drifting along some murky body of water, through a sonic fog so thick it clings to the surface of the water, every note sounding like it had travelled up from the bottom of the sea, or echoing off of the distant shore. Tuma offers up bits of his gorgeous distinctive guitar, and while they do manage to hover briefly, they seem to absorb the sounds around them, soft spidery tendrils transformed into thick swells, the trio introducing bits of voice, various other sounds, all rendered almost immediately unrecognizable, becoming more another part of this sprawling organic whole, cymbal sizzle becomes shimmering clouds, drifting over the drifting murkscape below.
The sound is simultaneously muddy, murky and lo-fi, yet warm, glistening, and subtly melodic, everything is muted, the softened edges barely hiding the glowing sonic glimmers within. Gorgeous.
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES. Packaged in super subtle silver ink on pale blue fold over origami style sleeve.
Holy shit. GORE! Easily one of our favorite heavy bands EVER. This is the sort of review that is so intimidating. A record we have loved for years and years, listened to hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, and then to finally have to put into words what it is that makes it so good, so special, whatever it is that makes these two of our favorite records EVER!!!! How much do we love these records? Well, whenever we would find one used, we would buy it just to give it to someone who needed to hear it, so much so that Andee at one point was even talking to the band about a comprehensive career spanning box set. But why you ask? Difficult to explain, especially without being able to play it for you, so since we just got these lps reissues in, and since they WILL be coming out on cd as well, we're just gonna go ahead and list these lps now with an abbreviated review, assuming that most Gore fanatics will need these anyway, and most heavy music fans have probably at least heard OF Gore, if not heard them once or twice, so they too might also want to pick these up. When the cds come out, we'll list them properly, with a longer more fleshed out and more gushing review (if that were even possible... IT IS!), with sound samples and everything, but for now...
Gore were a Dutch instrumental power trio trafficking in ultra minimal heaviness, like an even more minimal Melvins, but sans vocals, their songs made up of one, maybe two riffs, pounded out over and over, a bit like a more metal, proto-Circle.
Hart Gore and Mean Man's Dream are the first two Gore records, but play like part one and part two of a single song cycle. Crushing, pummeling, heavy as hell, repetitive, motorik, but weirdly melodic and impossibly catchy, we can't stress enough how massive and seminal these records were and are. Gore mastered a sound that would go on to influence countless heavy bands, and yet, somehow, these two records stand solid decades later as YEARS ahead of their time, masterpieces of heavy rock, of minimal metal, of proto-math metal, of hypno rock, this, as they say is THE SHIT.
For now, all we can say, is if you are at all into heavy music, these records are about as essential as it gets, your life will be changed, the way you look at music, what you consider heavy, how you hear other heavy bands, all of that will change, for the better. Trust us.
For Gore fanatics, like us, these are ESSENTIAL, the new designs are gorgeous, incorporating the timeless original album covers with new drawings and a beautiful super stylized layout. Inside, the records are pressed on nice thick vinyl, with printed inner sleeves adorned with tons of rare photos as well as extensive liner notes detailing the history of the mighty Gore! And most importantly, both record come with a whole extra lp of live tracks from the same era! Unreleased and unheard until now!
BUY THESE NOW!
Holy shit. GORE! Easily one of our favorite heavy bands EVER. We raved about the separate 2lp reissues last list, but we figured we'd wait for the cds to show up before bestowing Record Of The Week status upon them. Now combined as one massive double disc document collecting the first two albums and then some from this Dutch instru-metal group, who forged an incredible minimal metallic legacy that would go on to influence loads of our favorite bands. In fact, aQ would quite possibly be a whole different kind of store if it wasn't for Gore...
This is the sort of review that is so intimidating. Records we have loved for years and years, listened to hundreds, maybe even thousands of times, and then to finally have to put into words what it is that makes these so good, so special, whatever it is that makes these two of our favorite records EVER!!!! How much do we love these records? Well, whenever we would find one used, we would buy it just to give it to someone who needed to hear it, so much so that Andee at one point was even talking to the band about a comprehensive career spanning box set. But why you ask? Difficult to explain, hearing them is enough, even decades after they were originally released, folks who have never heard Gore, are usually sold after ONE song. Sometimes it doesn't even take that long. Just listen to "Mean Man's Dream" below, we'll wait....
See what we mean? So heavy, repetitive, mesmerizing, hypnotic, angular and abrasive, but impossibly catchy, groovy even. Listen to the other tracks, you won't be able to stop, you'll need to hear them all.
Gore fanatics will need these no matter what, and most heavy music fans have probably at least heard OF Gore, if not heard them once or twice, so they too might also want to pick these up. But we might as well start with who the heck this Gore band is anyway, and why should we care...
Gore were a Dutch instrumental power trio trafficking in ultra minimal heaviness, like an even more minimal Melvins, but sans vocals, their songs made up of one, maybe two riffs, pounded out over and over, a bit like a more metal, proto-Circle.
Hart Gore and Mean Man's Dream are the first two Gore records, but play like part one and part two of a single song cycle. Crushing, pummeling, heavy as hell, repetitive, motorik, but weirdly melodic and impossibly catchy, we can't stress enough how massive and seminal these records were and are. Gore created and mastered a sound that would go on to influence countless heavy bands, and yet, somehow, these two records decades after their initial release, still sound YEARS ahead of their time, masterpieces of heavy rock, of minimal metal, of proto-math metal, of hypno rock, this, as they say is THE SHIT.
For now, all we can say, is if you are at all into heavy music, these records are about as essential as it gets, your life will be changed, the way you look at music, what you consider heavy, how you hear other heavy bands, all of that will change, for the better. Trust us.
For Gore fanatics, like us, these are ESSENTIAL, the new designs are gorgeous, incorporating the timeless original album covers with new drawings and a beautiful super stylized layout. The cd includes a big booklet, packed with liner notes, the story of Gore, tons of rare photos, and most importantly, both discs come with a whole mess of live tracks from the same era! Unreleased and unheard until now!
BUY THIS NOW! YOU WILL NOT BE SORRY. THIS COULD BE YOUR NEW FAVORITE BAND! AND C'MON SOUTHERN LORD! KEEP THE GORE REISSUES COMING. WREDE! LIFELONG DEADLINE! MEST! SLOW DEATH! WE WANT, NAY -NEED- THEM ALL!!!!!!
The return of the mighty Gorgoroth!!! With all the non musical drama surrounding these guys it's sometimes hard to remember that Gorgoroth remain one of the only TRUE Norwegian black metal bands still totally capable of utter blackened musical destruction. Vocalist Gaahl has had it tough, arrested, headed for prison, but as we've learned from Lords Of Chaos, if you're gonna commit a heinous crime, do it in Norway. 14 years for first degree murder. Gaahl only got a year or so for taking a man hostage and torturing him. But what this might tell you is that Gorgoroth are indeed still very very EVIL. And they sound like it.
There are seemingly two schools of thought on Gorgoroth. There are those who love OLD Gorgoroth, Under The Sign Of Hell being THE ONE, and there are those, like us who lean toward Destroyer, the band's most noisy and fucked up record. We actually love both, but as we're sure you know, we tend to lean toward the damaged and demented. Ad Majorem Sathanas Gloriam falls mostly on the side of the former, a TRUE buzzing and blasting blackness, that does sound fucking fantastic but is not really weird or noisy or fucked up. We still love it, cuz these guys can still basically do no wrong, ands if you are hankering for some blasting frosty fury, some true grim classic sounding black metal, this will definitely hit the spot. The production is better, the band is tighter, the songs are maybe catchier, but it basically sounds like a modernized version of Under The Sign Of Hell, which is a VERY good thing. Secretly we were hoping for the band to totally drop us in our tracks with the weirdest black metal record ever, cuz if anyone is capable of coming up with such a thing, it's Gorgoroth, but hell, we've been to busy banging our heads to really notice.
We've been on a bit of a soundtrack kick lately here at aQ, getting a lot of cool ones in over the past little while. We just came across this disc and figured we should give it a shot, even though we hadn't seen the movie and weren't that familiar with the composer - but it's from an early '70s Italian "giallo" style thriller after all, and that's pretty compelling piece of cover art, ain't it? (Grasping hands, witchy woman, supine topless beauty; possibly promising a cinematic / soundtrack experience equally creepy and occult and sexy). As it turns out, this soundtrack turned out to be even better than we had hoped!! Much of the music here is soooooo beautifully sinister and slinky, exotic and noirishly jazzy - but that's not all, what we weren't expecting was how much fuzzed out psych-rock guitar action was going to be on here, too. WOW. Amidst the suitably spooky, sometimes quite lovely atmospheric interludes that primarily comprise the soundtrack, there's sudden heavy parts that sound not unlike the intro to a Black Sabbath song!! Maybe Tony Iommi happened to be visiting ancestral homeland and got hired to do these sessions while he was there - ok, unlikely, but that's almost what it sounds like. And certainly it's not impossible that the same guys who made that Blue Phantom library record could have been involved with this... definitely the occasional isolated slice of Sabbathy fuzzy doom riffage should attract any adventurous proto-metal fiends also into Italian library music, Goblin, & stuff like that too.
Mostly, this consists of dark, suspenseful, instrumental grooves, tracks variously arranged for ticking, agitated percussion, zinging strings, eerie woodwinds, springy Jew's harp, bongo drums, smokey jazz trumpet, wordless haunting female vocals, wavery electric organ, electronic effects... These incidental tracks are sinister, but romantic. Like the theme song for a lover you don't trust to not kill you when she's done with you, but you're still gonna take that chance.
And then, oh yeah, there's that aforementioned fuzz guitar, putting this over the top for us. Sometimes just a stab of it here or there, a single chord ringing out, cranking up the intensity level of this spinetingling music. Or, a couple times, leading into a full-on heavy psychrock jam. Weird how this album at moments reminds us of Black Sabbath or Randy Holden's Population II - and also, at other times, when that trumpet gets a-swinging, of Herb Alpert!
Now it seems lots of times when we list a soundtrack, we mention that we haven't actually seen the movie - in part 'cause yes we haven't seen the movie and thus can't say a lot about it, but also to indicate that you don't HAVE to have seen a movie in order to enjoy a soundtrack - but you all get that already, right? Of course. So for this review, we decided that we'd make an effort to try and watch La Morte Scende Leggera (aka Death Comes Lightly), the soundtrack made us curious after all... but alas we didn't manage to track it down in time. So once again, this is an example of how you can absolutely LOVE a soundtrack without any idea what the movie was all about - although the copious liner notes in the cd booklet, illustrated with stills from the film, do give us an idea - directed by Leopoldo Savona and released in 1972, it was apparently a movie with a confusing plot somehow involving drug smuggling, political corruption, quasi-supernatural elements, a series of mysterious murders, and erotic interludes - part psychological thriller, part ghost story, part softcore porn. The liner notes don't exactly give it two thumbs up, but it sounds kinda cool to us. And the appropriately psychedelic soundtrack for sure is cool.
From reading the liner notes, we also got some notion of how exactly it ended up sounding the way it does. Turns out track one, the movie's theme song, "Sunday In Neon Light", was actually not specifically written for the soundtrack. It had originally appeared on an obscure 1972 album (which now we'd love to find) called Peace On You by the Mak Sigis Porter Ensemble, lead by an expatriate singer/musician from Ghana. Part aching ballad, part heavy psych jam, "Sunday In Neon Light" has a bit of the vibe of some of the Afro-fuzz garage records we've had reissues of lately, with crunching guitar chords and vocals that remind us of Jimi Hendrix or Malcolm Mooney from early Can (hearing it was the first thing that clued us in that this wasn't the usual giallo soundtrack). Then, 'cause they'd decided to use this song in the movie, composer Lallo Gori wrote the rest of the score around it, his orchestrations in a similar psychedelic style using fuzz rock guitar, etc. And, in our opinion, the results are up there with some of our favorite soundtracks like Klute, Psychomania, and Possession - the latter of which we made a Record Of The Week not long ago, so we're gonna do the same for La Morte Scende Leggera too. Also note, it's a limited edition release, our supplier apparently having some of the last copies around, and at a bargain price since it's normally an expensive import.
Not sure if this got repressed or if the label just found a stash of discs under the bed, either way, this monstrous slab of sound is available again, if only briefly...
We've been pretty dang obsessed with the Goslings since the very first second we heard them. They have found massive favor with the SUNNO))) crowd, but other than being slow and heavy, they seem to be a whole 'nother beast. This married couple from Florida, craft impossibly noisy and gu wrenchingly heavy pop songs. That's right, you heard us, pop songs. "But wait," you say, "I'm listening to the sound samples and I don't hear any pop..." Well listen closer. Much closer. Hold your breath and close your eyes and dunk your head into the Goslings gorgeously abrasive soundworld and you will feel the pop. That's the beauty of the Goslings, each song is like a diamond dipped in mud and wrapped in barbed wire. Beautiful lilting shimmer-pop doused in crumbling crunchy downtuned guitar sludge and sheets of jagged feedback. A brief snippet, a casual glance, and all you'd see or hear is NOISE. But settle in, lean back, let the Goslings wash over you, suddenly shapes begin to emerge. melodies drift in and out, riffs take shape and then fade into the mist. A super blown out in-the-red dreamlike sludge, equal parts Boris drone, My Bloody Valentine bliss-out, and shimmering crystalline pop. Like a Mazzy Star record dipped in hot tar and then wrapped in a hundred layers of feedingback guitars. So beautifully heavy. And as we've mentioned in other reviews, the Goslings just might be the loveliest harsh noise-sludge pop band ever!
Packaged in a cool silkscreened oversized sleeve with abstract pink art and the cd affixed to a little plastic nub on the inside. As always, way too limited.
Not many artists can lay claim to their very own musical genre, but Hollywood, Florida's The Goslings are among the elite few who most definitely can. On first listen their sound seems to fit pretty comfortably amongst the current crop of distorted deconstructed decaying blissed out dreamy dirge rock that seems to be all the rave (Nadja, Alcest, Hjarnidaudi, Procer Veneficus, etc.), after all they often get described as half SUNNO))) and half My Bloody Valentine, but that's really only half (again) true. And while their sound does share some of the elements of those other bands, The Goslings are their own perfect, synergetic sonic force, an organic, original soundworld that has absorbed and re-synthesized those influences entirely. In other words, on this latest record, they somehow manage to sound way, way heavier and much, much more lush, transforming any vestiges of other bands' sounds into something distinctly theirs. Formerly just a husband and wife duo, Max and Leslie Soren, Occasion finds the couple joined by two apparently full-time members which does nothing but help make their sound, thicker, and more dense, more intense, more distorted, and impossibly, more beautiful. It's not a huge departure from the sound of their previous outings, but that's not really a bad thing. Occasion just serves to demonstrate that their sound is now even more of a particularly refined and menacing chunk of skull crushingly gorgeous sound.
Each of The Goslings' records has been self-recorded straight onto tape in their $15 an hour rehearsal space. Before it was a 4-track, now it's a reel-to-reel 8-track tape, with any additional tracks being added at a friend's house in Pro Tools -- a slight upgrade, but again, one that merely serves to push their sound even further into some hellish sonic realm. Mastered by James Plotkin, their commitment to relatively lo-fi, analog recording a significant part of why each and every track is so totally ear-stabbingly, skull-fuckingly shit heavy. But beneath the obvious doom veneer, the crushing sludge, the washed out hiss and buzz, there are buried some lovely melodies and more of the Goslings' near perfect pop songs. Fear not though, it's not like Nadja or Jesu, where there is potentially enough of said pop to turn-off those more dedicated to the seriously heavy and/or utterly grim. Regardless of the surprising melodic structures lay hidden beneath the blown out bluster, or the prettiness of Leslie's vocals drifting ethereally throughout, the music, the sound, the Goslings' sheer power continually threatens to overwhelm, a bludgeoning slab of sonic destruction that's systematically destroying your entire life, note by note. Then out of nowhere, there's a weird little bluegrass number, a brief respite before the band lurch back into motion, unleashing another avalanche of village crushing, ultradistorted, stumbling, downtuned beautiful brutality.
A higher recommendation would be difficult to give. Essential!
We recently discovered this little German label called Gruenrekorder, who specialize in "Phonography and Audio Art" which translates to field recordings, turntablism and audio installations, which definitely sounded right up our alley. We then discovered that they had 60 or 70 releases, probably more by the time of this review, most cd-r's and all incredibly limited, usually to 50 or less. Yikes. Had to do some quick thinking, so we picked two of the most promising sounding and got a bunch of those (a bunch meaning 25 copies, which is half of the pressing). So elsewhere on this list you'll find the other Gruenrekorder release, a sound installation for turntables and plastic angels, which somehow seems to perfectly balance this one right here, a field recordings of bats, collected via ultrasound, much like the The Inaudible World cd / book we listed a while back, but while similar, the sounds here are different enough, that if you dug The Inaudible World, Fledermausrufe Im Modulationsverfahren makes a good addendum.
Collected by Matthias Gottsche, head of the NABU department for protection of the bats in Schleswig-Holstein, the sounds here were a part of an infrared film project, assembled for species analysis, but due to the overlap and chaos of the various animals recorded, it ended up useless as research material, leaving it to exist simply as sound art.
The best part is the description of this disc on Gruenrekorder's website, explaining why it is all one track "Because of the reduction to only one track the listener has to go through it all at once and with it is confronted with his one staying power." Yes! And this will definitely test your staying power. As the sounds of bats, their sonar rendered audible to human ears, sounds a bit like several people playing Yahtzee!, shaking dice in those little plastic cups, but never actually rolling them, just shaking and shaking. The percussive rattle fluctuates from baseball card in the spokes flutter to a dense clattery cacophony, a tangled rhythmic web that is constantly shifting and undulating, and is in its own weird way quite soothing and hypnotic. Still hard to believe these sounds come out of bats...
Beautifully packaged, printed cd-r, striking black and white sleeve, cool infrared photos, but again, LIMITED TO ONLY 50 COPIES!!! So once these are gone, we won't be able to get more.
It maybe took a little while, but folks around here finally started digging the Grails, A LOT. After their last record, their second release on Neurot, the band went through some personnel shifts, which often trigger the end of a band, but in this case, pushed the band in new directions and resulted in some of their best music to date. That Neurot record was cool, but at the time we had sort of reached our post rock, quiet-loud-quiet saturation point. It wasn't that the Grails weren't a great band, it was because we had raised our bar on moody epic post rock. It was no longer enough to just drift along post-rockily before exploding into epic metallic bombast and drifting back again. As pleasant as that is to listen to, there was SO MUCH of that going around, we just needed something more. Soon after the band released an ep of international psych covers and that was the beginning of a glorious new direction. We knew whatever was gonna come next would be a killer, and thankfully, The Black Tar Prophecies, are indeed just that.
The whole three volumes thing was a bit confusing, and still is. We never actually carried volume one, a super limited split 12" with the Red Sparowes, which went out of print before we could get any, we sold tons of volume two, a limited colored vinyl lp on Aurora Borealis, and as far as we can tell, volume three exists only as the two unreleased tracks on this here cd. Regardless, this is some, dark and amazing, absolutely beautiful music. With the Black Tar Prophecies, the Grails finally shrugged off their influences and forged their own sound, never hesitating to experiment, explore, or fuck around with songs and sound. These musical 'Prophecies just might just be the weirdest, most subtle, least rock set of songs they've ever produced. We were definitely always fans, but when we heard that psych covers ep, on which they covered psychedelic songs from around the world, including AQ faves Flower Travellin Band, well, we were suddenly WAY more than fans. They had us as Flower Travellin Band. Anyway, Black Tar Prophecies takes their obsession with psych rock, and their deft mastery of all things post rock, and turns them inward, into a darker, doomier, moodier place. And we love it. Super gloomy rhythmscapes, jazzy piano, totally dubbed out drums, everything bathed in smoky atmospheric swirl. Reminds us a little of Bohren & Der Club Of Gore at times. Songs that wander down dark alleys, streetlights barely illuminating the murky streets, sonic ghost towns, haunting cinematic postrockscapes, like a more rock DJ Shadow, all low slung bass and shuffling rhythms, very smoky and dreamlike. Elsewhere, dreamy psychedelic guitarscapes, strummed acoustic guitars, beneath fuzzed out moody psych leads, really seventies sounding, like a more abstract post rock Hendrix / Santana thing. But the doom inclined among you will find much to love too, here and there, thick slabs of glacial that will have dronedirgedoom nerds frothing at the mouth, as if to prove they can throw down with the big boys (Boris, Corrupted, Isis, Pelican, Moss, etc...) the band unleash massive downtuned dirges, thick washes of slow sludge guitars woven into tarpit riffs of gargantuan proportion, distortion so blown out it crumbles like dirt clods stuffed in your ears, the recording strangely lo-fi, giving the proceedings a dreary droney, Hawkwind meets Gore sort of dirgedoom vibe. Epic and amazing.
This cd collects both the previously released 12"s and adds two exclusive and previously unreleased tracks!
Finally available on vinyl. One of our favorite records by longtime aQ faves the Grails. Where as the title suggests, The Grails cover and reinterpret "Three Psychedelic Rock Songs From Around The World", including one of our favorites from the Flower Travellin' Band. And since this is part of Southern's Latitudes series, it is indeed limited, this time to 1000 copies worldwide, which means 500 made it to the US, 50 to AQ. Packaged in that now immediately recognizable black and white woodcut style Latitudes sleeve. Pressed on obscenely thick white vinyl (with bits of black swirl in some of them), one sided, the flipside featuring one of the most intricate and striking etchings we've seen so far. Also includes the same insert that came with the cd. Needless to say, these are gonna fly out of here. Probably won't be able to get more, so be quick, or be dead...
We already loved the Grails. Then they have to go and cover Flower Travellin' Band. What the hell are we supposed to do now? Love them more?? Okay, fine. We love them more. Any band that has the balls to take on "Satori" deserves all the respect you can give them. This is volume 4 in Southern Records' Latitudes series, the first three of which (William Whitmore, Shit & Shine, Ginnungagap) we were only able to get a handful of each, which of course sold out in no time. We managed to get 25 of these, but there is no guarantee we'll be able to get more, so be prepared to be disappointed. Sorry. We tried to order 50, but what can you do?
So anyway, "Satori"! What a completely amazing song, those of you who for some reason don't already own Satori by the Flower Travellin Band, please remedy that immediately, you will not be sorry. And the Grails do an amazing job of turning "Satori" into a Grails song, it's still heavy, and it's still got that Eastern vibe, In fact it sounds a little bit Sun City Girls with its fiddle parts, but it's a little more mellowed out, and post rocky, and they wisely forgo the vocals which would be pretty darn hard to emulate.
The second track they take on is the Byrds' "Space Odyssey", a brooding twangy dirge, with dubbed out drums and absolutely dreamy lapsteel and slow building washes of cymbal sizzle, gloriously dark and hypnotic.
Finally, it's on to the UK (remember, this record is titled Interpretations Of Three Psychedelic Rock Songs From Around The World) to tackle "Master Builder" by Gong. The first half is a creeping crawling fog of shimmering guitar overtones and rich chordal swells, eventually building to a full on wild and woolly prog attack with wild drumming, mad fiddle sawing and major guitar freakout. SO AWESOME!
We gotta go way back for this one. A serious slab of black metal history. The first time on cd for Graveland's infamous third demo, originally released on cassette in 1992, Drunemeton, and while it is way more grim and lo-fi that we've come to expect, it's also way weirder, and you know how we love that.
From the very Graveland like intro, tape hiss and church bells, whirling wind, huge buzzing swaths of primitive synth and harsh whispered vocals, you know this is gonna be good, but you definitely can't possibly be prepared for how weird and fucked it's going to be as well. This is so awesomely lo-fi, machine like drums (drum machine we presume) are the focus, WAY up in the mix, louder than everything else except maybe the vocals. The guitars are a churning throbbing pulse more than actual riffing, the vocals a harsh growl laid over everything. The only time you can actually hear the notes and riffs are when things slow down to a dirge and the blast beat becomes a mechanical plod. But the second the blast beat begins again, the guitars become a muted blur and suddenly it's some strange alien industrial jam.
In fact, in a lot of ways, it's hard not to hear Godflesh or Pitchshifter in these songs. The drums are so industrial and relentless, a pounding that defines the sound here. Imagine if Godflesh had been into black metal, this is almost what it would have had to sound like. The slow parts are equally strange, with huge sweeps of ultra cinematic keyboards nearly swallowing up everything else, making the guitar buzz seem tiny, and the drums sound like throwing rocks against an aluminum garage door, everything during those slow parts is about the epic synths, moody and melodramatic, before the drums kick back in and we're back in black metal Godflesh territory.
Some of the best moments are when those two sounds mix, the sweeping synths, and the industrial pound, and during those stretches the drum machine seems to stumble, struggling amidst a black sea of synth swells and crunchy guitar buzz. Elsewhere, there are weird backwards gongs (at least that's what it sounds like) strange circusy piano melodies, haunting chantlike vocals, the sounds of birds, mechanical clanging and clatter, all wrapped up in the record's machine-like black pound.
As if it wasn't obvious by now, this is most definitely the weirdest Graveland record, managing to push both our old school industrial buttons and our grim damaged black metal buttons, AT THE SAME TIME!! The more we listen to this, and we can't seem to stop, the more it seems inevitable that Drunemeton is quite possibly our new favorite Graveland record.
Not sure what to say about this other than BUY IT NOW... it's one of those black metal records that we'd recommend even to normally-non-black-metal music purchasers, if you're into checking out something weird, a metal record with layers of droning guitar texture and shifting tempos, speeding up then slowing down, creating an almost avant-garde metal psychedelia. For the metal fans, we'll provide some further elucidation... There's a definite black metal elite that everyone is familiar with: Burzum, Satyricon, Burzum, Emperor, Mayhem, Darkthrone, Ulver and all those folks. But there is also a more underground elite, even more grim and frosty and brutal and buzzing. Think Judas Iscariot, Nargaroth, Veles, Moonblood, Carpathian Forest and of course the mighty Graveland. This is not really all that new, but since we were finally able to get enough to list (and because there is a new Graveland on the horizon) we figured we should get this one listed cause it's so completely amazing. So, now that most of the underground is dead, and Burzum has become a Nazi Peter And The Wolf, and Darkthone is getting thrashier and sillier, and Satyricon is pretty much techno, it's basically left to the dynamic duo of Poland's Graveland and Germany's Nargaroth to keep the real blackened flame burning. While Nargaroth blaze and buzz, and spit blurry buzzsaw black metal in furious spurts, Graveland sort of stumble and careen chaotically, never really moving much faster than a midtempo gallop, with drumming that struggles and flails under sheets of corrosive fuzz. That's exactly where Graveland shines, they're not fast but rather thick and layered, they're not technical, rather droning and simple, very reminiscent of prime Burzum. Soaring majestic melodies drone beneath ambling blackened waltzes, buried beneath layers and layers of blackened grimness, or grim blackness, or whatever it is that gives Memory And Destiny such a suffocatingly dense sound. Anyone who digs the divine darkness of all the above mentioned bands should bow down before Graveland and let the droning dirge of Memory And Destiny envelop your soul and crush your body into dust.
We recently listed the utterly amazing Memory And Destiny album by Polish black metal legends Graveland, a frosty and cult masterpiece of blazing buzzing black metal fury, droning and hypnotic, with unpredictable rhythms and stumbling blast beats. Not exactly new at the time, but we were finally able to get enough to list, and we also wanted to whet everyone's appetites for a new Graveland album, which is finally here! The Fire Of Awakening continues in a similar direction as Memory And Destiny although with a few surprises. The opening track for instance, is remarkably catchy, that's right catchy, with a riff that will stick in your head like a pop song. Granted it's swathed in distorted fuzz and battling thrashing midtempo drums and an angelic chorus, but it's a pretty amazing hook! Fear not though, the riff is subsumed soon enough into utter blackness, with epic Nordic riffery and tribal bleakness butted up against each other, while the drumming gallops unsteadily along, and sing songy folk melodies buzz wildly atop the melee. The best part of Graveland is how they switch from part to part, even though the parts don't seem to fit together at all. It gives everything this struggling, chaotic, almost messy feel, which totally adds energy and immediacy to what could otherwise be straight ahead black metal. Not a lot of blast beats either. Like Nargaroth, Graveland putter along at a hypnotic, trance inducing midtempo lope, with attempts at anything faster resulting in even more stumbling chaos! So epic and furious and heavy and intense and mesmeric and absolutely brilliant. Still problematic politically, however...
All it takes is about 30 seconds of the opening track, the awesomely titled "Temple Lurker", on this debut full length from Chicago psych rockers The Great Society Mind Destroyers, to realize these guys are serious psych freeks and are here to drag us into a drugged out sonic stupor of unparalleled proportions. Their initial squall of White Heaven like freak-out had us expecting a nonstop barrage of wild shred and drum chaos, but instead, the band settle into something much more trancey and hypnotic, thick undulating basslines, wah wah guitars, and dense busy drumming, all blurred into a thick cloud of propulsive psychedelic mesmer, the sort of motorik spaced out psych that should have fans of Wooden Shjips, Comets On Fire, and the like losing their shit. And while TGSMD share much with those groups, their sound is also much more poppy, definitely reminding us of Bardo Pond too in that sort hazy washed out dreaminess, but the band do have some freak-out in them, after lulling you into a dreamy drugged out state, they'll blast you with another blown out burst of psych-noise chaos, only to slip right back into the groove. And it's only the first track!
"Divinorum" offers up more of the same, but this time more rocking, reminding us of Loop, or a heavier Spacemen 3, the band locked tight, the drums a force to be reckoned with, somehow as psychedelic as the guitars, the groop getting lost in endless jams, we're talking White Hills, Monster Magnet, Hawkwind, Burnt Hills, Assemble Head In Sunburst Sound, 3 Leafs, The Heads, in a perfect world, these guys would be just as well know, as it is we can only imagine it's just a matter of time.
"Samsara Drag" is the shortest track here, and also maybe the poppiest, but even this brief blast of popsyke displays much of what makes these guys so good, soaring swirling guitars, shuffling propulsive drumming, those hazy dreamlike vox, the only difference is, the song never explodes into a heart of the sun psychedelic freak-out, but then, that's what the rest of the record is for. "Equation Of Time" is another short(ish) one, at nearly six minutes, and the band meld a woozy almost droney dirge, and a delicate washed out intro, to wicked gouts of wild distorted psych, evolving into a fierce blown out jam, that sounds like it could have gone on forever. "Now Riot!" finds the band doing what they do best, seemingly continuing on from the album opener, before slipping into "Mystic Warriors", which sounds remarkably like aQ faves Cave, which makes sense, as there is definitely a Cave / TGSMD connection, but where Cave take their sound, lock it in, and get lost in a sort of krautbliss, these guys add hazy vocals, wrap everything in dense wah guitar, let the sounds slowly ooze and spread, everything seeming the bleed and blur, the drums the main constant, pounding and anchoring and keeping everything else from just floating away.
And then finally, there's the nearly 10 minute closer "Higher Bodies", which starts out a slow abstract brooder, then gradually evolves into a field of distorted guitar skree, before finally blossoming into a gorgeous expanse of dreamy, gauzy psych pop, woozy and laid back, sun dappled and drug drenched, and while this might be THE JAM, drawn out and droney, the sort of set ender that depending on the crowd could extend into the wee hours, but the band gets to stretch out big time, the effects are everywhere, the vocals loose and dreamily chaotic, the song splintering midway through, into what sounds like a symphony of malfunctioning tape players, but the band plays on, that loping psychedelic groove, swaddled in a tripped out cloud of shimmer and glitch and that gloriously twisted tape manipulation, heady and hypnotic, and again, the sort of sound you never want to end.
Super sweet packaging, nice full color psychedelic matte jackets, with a printed lyric sheet / poster inside, and if you're lucky, mixed in with the black wax are a few copies on tripped out gold and red splatter wax! Don't ask for colored vinyl, it's random, just cross your fingers (or don't worry about it since black wax sounds better anyway!!)...
We've never seen this movie but if it's anything like the soundtrack, boy do we want to see it. It must be INSANE. And very, very groovy. 'Cause this is one trippy record, guitarist/composer Billy Green's psychedelic soundtrack to the 1974 biker flick Stone, today a cult classic (we hear it's out now on dvd, gotta find it!). It's from Australia, one of the early precursors to Mad Max in the so-called "Ozpolitation" genre (about which there's been a recent documentary that we also have to see!), doubtless full of violence, stunts, bikes, and girls.
We don't know much about the plot except that it involves the badass Gravediggers motorcycle gang (who, while as shaggy and dirty as any Hell's Angels, ride fancy new Japanese pocket rockets instead of the Harleys you might expect), characters with names like Dr. Death, Stone, Toad, Undertaker, Captain Midnight, most of whom get their own distinctive cues on the soundtrack. Beyond that, the liner notes mention acid trips and something about a political assassination, and well if you know what happens don't tell us 'cause we don't want to spoil anything for when/if we do see the film, we'll just enjoy the music for now!
Track one, the six minute, 35 second long "Eco Blue/Toadstrip" really dumps listeners in at the deep end, being a dark and unsettling musique concrete composition consisting of noisy electronic Moog synth bbrrzapp, and didgeridoo drone (ordinarily we detest the didge, but this IS an Australian movie), like a drug fuelled jam between aliens and aborigines. If you survive that (rather than report to the tent for those who ate the bad acid), the next track shifts mood considerably, being a funky freaky instrumental called "Race", full of wah-wah guitar and more electronic embellishments. Yep, just two tracks in and it's already totally awesome! As the disc continues, you'll get to hear all sorts of other strange and groovy sounds, including short interludes of sound effects and chanting ("Pigs"), lush, melancholic orchestration ("Cosmic Funeral"), bluegrass pickin' ("Septic"), classical strings and splashing cymbals ("Amanda"), Hendrix-y fuzzed fusion ("Stone"), mellow hippie blues-bliss ("Smoke"), heavy prog plus free jazz freakout ("Gravediggers"), and loads more that's either super groovy or super wacked, or both. Sometimes it sounds like a 'proper' film soundtrack, with the usual sort of suspenseful or sentimental cinematic stylings, but mostly it's all about sleazy, krautrocky chaos!
It's mostly instrumental, except for the bonus tracks, one which consists of dialogue from the film ("Hip's Rap"), one being a kinda cheesy soul-fuzz number ("Cosmic Flash"), and also two portentous versions of "Do Not Go Gentle (Rage)", a song based on the Dylan Thomas poem, set to music by Billy Green - we prefer the second one, sung by Jeannie Lewis, which was probably very important to the emotional impact of some crucial scene in the movie but here just seems awesomely over the top and incongruous.
The final bonus track is the audio from the original theatrical trailer for the movie, which starts off with someone screaming "SATAN!!!!!" followed by a dead pan voiceover intoning "Stone is a trip", and reciting further selling points, backed by a collage of sound effects and funky hard rock vamping, all snippets from the soundtrack. Again, it makes us want to see it... except, in a way, maybe we're realizing it's better to have the film exist (for us) only in our imaginations, 'cause the soundtrack is so far out it seems likely that the actual film couldn't possibly live up to it, could it? In any event, the soundtrack certainly stands by itself as a sizzlingly lysergic slice of '70s rock/electronic weirdness, part Bobby Beausoleil, part Amon Duul, a little bit Sly Stone, a little bit Sir Lord Baltimore... and altogether Stone(d).
Now, if you search on such keywords as "motorcycle gang", "fuzz", and "soundtrack" on our website, besides this you'll find our rave review of another Satanic motorcycle gang movie soundtrack that we ALSO made a Record Of The Week once upon a time, that'd be the music by John Cameron and session band Frog from the 1972 zombie biker flick Psychomania, reissued by Trunk some years back, and now sadly out of print again. Billy Green's Stone soundtrack is obviously the only thing that comes close. You could definitely file 'em together, Stone being a worthy successor (with a song called "Toad" instead of one called "The Frog"). It'd be a great double feature.
Also, remember that unusual series of Aussie psychedelic sixties/seventies surf movie soundtracks from the Japanese label EM, we listed a while back? The ones by Farm, Peter Martin & Finch, Tamam Shud, etc.? Though this is inspired by wheels rather than waves, and ain't so sunshiney, still fits in with the best of those.
As usual with B-Music / Finders Keepers productions, this is a labor of love, and the cd booklet reflects that, its many pages stuffed full of full-color film stills and poster artwork, along with a lengthy and knowledgeable essay by DJ Andy Votel. Before delving into the story of Stone, Votel talks a bit about the history of '60s / '70s B-movie biker cinema, citing the aforementioned Psychomania as an important forerunner to this film and its soundtrack.
Like we said, we've never seen Stone, though we want to. However, we've been fans of this soundtrack for some time. There was a previous, Australia-only compact disc reissue of this back in 1999, on the occasion of the film's 25th anniversary (which was celebrated with a 35,000 strong biker rally!). We were never really able to get any to stock though, so it's awesome to have this now, and it's been further expanded with additional bonus tracks, as well as nicely packaged, including a slipcover. When we heard it was coming out again, we immediately thought, Record Of The Week. Finally folks everywhere will get a chance to hear this, and ride with Stone and the Gravediggers!
All the metalheads around here love stoner rock, and stoner metal, from Kyuss to Sons Of Otis, Mystick Krewe Of Clearlight to Mammoth Volume, Roachpowder to Raging Slab, Church Of Misery to Elder, and of course Black Sabbath, who aren't technically stoner rock, but who sort of created the template, and then there's Monster Magnet, Natas, Electric Wizard, we could go on, but you get the drift. And we'd always been super partial to Swedish stoners Dozer, who seemingly hung it up in 2008 after five killer full lengths. So we were pretty psyched when we got this record in, from a band called Greenleaf, which features a bunch of guys from Dozer, and we were surprised to discover that Greenleaf have been active since 2000, concurrently with Dozer for almost a decade! And yet, this is the first we've heard from 'em. This is their third full length, and is produced by the guy from VAKA, whose piano driven post rock / stoner doom record Kappa Delta Phi record was a big favorite around here, but that definitely gives Nest Of Vipers some serious heft, which helps balance out the EXTREME poppiness. The band also includes members of Lowrider, Truckfighters, and features a handful of guest appearances from members of Opeth and Spiritual Beggars among others.
Allan jokes that when we mention Queens Of The Stone Age in a review, it tends to scare people off, and we sell way fewer copies than we would otherwise, but it's just unavoidable sometimes, and hell, QOTSA in the early days was only one step removed from the mighty Kyuss anyway, and the opening track here "Jack Staff" is kind of a dead ringer for QOTSA, especially the crazy catchy, super poppy chorus, with its soaring Josh Homme like vox, heck it even goes beyond QOTSA into full on commercial heavy rock, but fuck it, it sounds killer, the guitar tone is thick and deserty, the main riff is crunchy and fuzzy, the overall vibe is swaggery and snarly, the song seesawing between extreme stoner crush and total heavy pop.
Nothing else on the record is so overtly poppy, but lots of parts come seriously close, all the songs here definitely displaying a serious pop edge to them, no matter how heavy or stonery the jam is. But let's not overplay the poppiness, cuz some of the jams here are seriously fierce, fuzzy, and blown out and HEAVY. Another Swedish band whose influence can be felt throughout are the Hellacopters, which again, as far as we're concerned is not a bad thing at all. And Kiss, lots of these tracks are obviously beholden to those masters of hooky heaviness. There's some organ that pops up too on a few tracks, which definitely gives the proceedings a bit of a psychedelic vibe, but overall this is just a seriously kick ass, seriously catchy collection of fuzzed out hook heavy stoner rock radness. And if your collection features lots of records on Meteor City, Small Stone, Tee Pee, Leaf Hound, Rise Above, Elektrohasch and the rest, then Nest Of Vipers will definitely feel right at home...
It's weird to think about the world before the Internet. Little pockets of bands in out of the way places, producing wild and wonderful music, that outside of a few tape traders and cool record stores just didn't get heard. In some ways the advent of immediate world wide communication has been a wellspring of amazing music, since now, some kid who records in his bedroom in Finland, can now be heard by anyone in the world. Anywhere. Any time. The downside is of course the proliferation of bands whose material maybe didn't need worldwide exposure, music that was just fine where it was, in the bedroom or the basement. Thankfully this particular release is a definite example of the former. Australia has produced some killer rock over the years, from AC/DC to Radio Birdman to Lubricated Goat (one of Allan and Andee's favorites) to the Dirty Three to more obscure noiserock bands like Budd or the Dumb And The Ugly or Primitive Calculators. A few lists back we reviewed an awesome disc by the band Whitehorse, whose epic sludge-y, drone-y dirge definitely hit the Sunn 0))) / Earth / Corrupted / Khanate spot. The guys in Whitehorse suggested we check out another Aussie outift (also from Melbourne) a two guys and a gal trio called the Grey Daturas, who only a few weeks later just showed up in our store with a box full of cds, about to embark on their first US tour (some of the dates with Sunn 0))), see elsewhere on this list for tour dates). And while the Daturas are indeed heavy and droney, their sound is less slow motion sludge and more blown out fuzzy psych rock. A blurry druggy mix of Hawkwind, the Dead C, Comets On Fire, Residual Echoes, Dead Meadow and Bardo Pond. The Daturas' sound is all over the map, from churning, throbbing fuzzdrug churn, with squealing feedback and choppy uneven riffing, to drifting dreamy stripped down post rock, all careening wildly between thick swaths of super overdriven psych fuzz, and drenched in crumbly distortion and all manner of wah. When they kick out the jams, it's fierce and mesmerizing, pounding and relentless, with simple propulsive percussion and spaced out swirl. Often stretching out into head nodding Krautrock jams, spacious and hypnotic. When the storms calm and the band drifts off and just sort of meanders, we're reminded of Codeine and other like minded practitioners of drowsy, druggy slow core. Still noisy, but mellow and intense, brooding and subtly aggressive.
The Grey Daturas are all instrumental which as you probably know we tend to dig, since there's nothing like a bad singer to ruin a perfectly good band, but there's always the risk of bands with no vocalists to be really really boring. But because a lot of the Daturas' tunes are improvised, and the band is willing to take all kinds of musical chances (they often switch instruments, sometimes perform as a duo with no drummer, etc...) it never gets boring, instead it becomes the perfect mix of droning free rock, kick ass instrumental post rock, buzzing druggy psych and even occasional blasts of full on metal. Mix in some cool song titles: "The Hanging Man Is No Peacock", "Force Is A Weapon Of The Weak", as well as some oddly political song titles (but more sort of Sixties politics): "For Huey P. Newton and Bobby Seale", "Night Of The Barricade: Paris 1968", a gorgeous washed out black, brown and grey cardboard sleeve, and a totally kick ass live show (they performed admirably with a handful of fill-in drummers here, even teaming up with art noise outfit the Yellow Swans for one show), and you've got one of our favorite new bands / releases. AND they're recording a new record right here in SF when they get back from tour...yay!
We've said it before and we'll say it again, but oh how are grindcore hearts were broken when Discordance Axis called it a day. Sure there were plenty of grind bands, but few were able to capture the magic, and conjure the sort of grind metal magic those guys could. Even the briefest songs were jammed with intricate rhythms, and incredible melodies, so impossibly fast and furious, but catchy as fuck. Various Disc Ax members went on to do other things, most notably drum god Dave Witte, but even with him behind the kit, none of the post-Disc Ax bands pulled it off in quite the same way. Until recently. Until vocalist Jon Chang joined the living, returning with his insane Japanese hyper metal outfit, Hayaino Daisuki, who melded the techgrind of DA with total over the top power metal. Seems like a bad idea, but au contraire, we hadn't heard anything that fresh, that fucked up and gloriously heavy in forever. So here we are with another of Chang's new bands, one that has been in the works seemingly since the death of DA, seeing as there was a Gridlink track on that posthumous DA collection that came out way back in 2005. Even then we were thrilled at how much Gridlink seemed to channel the sound of DA, they seemed to be THE band poised to carry on Discordance's art-grind torch, but then nothing. For three years. But now. Shit. We feel silly saying it was worth waiting three years for 11 minutes of music, but the more we listen to this the more we're convinced it actually was.�
This is mindblowing. So heavy and insanely fast, so complex and furious, more than 12 minutes would probably kill you. Or maybe not, as we've been listening to this on repeat nonstop. Beyond just being brutal and lightning fast, it's also insanely dynamic, and so catchy, little squalls of grinding metallic mayhem offer up unlikely harmonies, killer hooks, some Maidenish guitar parts, Chang's vocals a hysterical banshee like shriek. And actually, Gridlink does seem to be the sonic link between Discordance and Hayaino, the over power metalisms of Hayaino tempered into something much less over the top, and the obtuse artiness of DA reigned in a bit, both sounds forced into one swirling sparks-spitting white hot ball of mind melting metallic art grind genius. So recommended. As is setting your cd on repeat and listening to this 5 or 6 times at each sitting!
Looks like this is gonna be the album that establishes Grizzly Bear and brings them to the next level, and for good reason, as it's their most ambitious and assured outing yet. Filled with such lush deep harmonies, these are songs that create such lovely states of brooding, dramatic pop both smart and emotional. Imagine sprinkling Van Dyke Parks arrangements on top of the songs Elliott Smith was creating near the end of his life as well as a healthy dose of inspiration from Nina Simone and you start to get an idea for the kind of intense orchestral baroque pop Grizzly Bear have created with Veckatimest. They enlisted Nico Muhly to create arrangements on a few of the tracks, but even the songs without Muhly's touch are are still impossibly lush and rich sounding. Veckatimest almost makes us want it to be gray and wet outside forever as these are the kind of sounds to keep you warm in the darkest and coldest of times. So nice! And even Andee, who was never that keen on Grizzly Bear, was immediately smitten by the track "Two Weeks". If that track doesn't convince you, then maybe you just don't like pop music...
