We hadn't even heard of this band until a handful of customers started mentioning them, so we figured we'd best check it out, and guess what? Turned out to be pretty fucking amazing. A huge slab of fuzzy shoegazey electronica-flecked dream pop. We've been listening to this nonstop since it came in. It's not really that new, but it's so good, we figured better late than never. Imagine the post rave swirl of the Orb, mix in the muted warmth of Boards Of Canada, the lalala Neu-worship of Stereolab, the catchy new wave of New Order, then wrap the whole thing in a thick shimmery distorted haze a la My Bloody Valentine and you'll be close. Now imagine that concoction as the soundtrack to the love scene in some super bizarre Anime. You know, the part where the girl is going into space because she can't live on earth because her tentacles keep killing cute little pandas, and her boyfriend is a giant panda, but they love each other so much her tears turn into jewels that the pandas can eat to make them invincible. It's that heartbreakingly good. This will totally hit the spot for electro geeks, shoegazers, pop kids, and everyone in between.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
For a band much loved by the metalheads around these parts, there's a serious dearth of Marduk albums on the AQ site. Only four out of maybe a dozen full lengths. WTF? No excuse, other than just too much amazing metal to cover...
So let's try to right that wrong!�We meant to get going on Marduk reviews again when Mortuus from Funeral Mist joined on vocals. We couldn't think of a better combo, the blazing buzz of Panzer Division Marduk, and the grim frosty howl from Funeral Mist, but it seemed most long time fans were super bummed on the change, we however were not. Even though we never got around to reviewing 2004's Plague Angel, it ranks as one of our favorite Marduk records.�
So for those new to Marduk, the thing with them, is they are fast. Really fast. Furious, relentless, the embodiment of pure black buzz. Lots of folks found the band to be boring because of the lightspeed blur the band seemed to constantly inhabit, but we reveled in their blazing blackness. So we were pretty surprised by this latest disc, sure the band had dabbled in midtempos in the past, even a bit of dirge here and there, but Rom 5:12 is pretty heavy on the midtempo Burzumic buzz, and even the doomy downtuned plod, but fear not those chunks of blackness are surrounded on all sides by that classic ultrafast Marduk buzz.�
The opening track is all spacious and mathy, even post rocky, sounding not unlike recent Deathspell Omega, lots of gnarled squalls of blackness amidst almost groovy black riffing. The second track though returns Marduk to more familiar ground, but not for long. Check out track three. "Imago Mortis", it's downright pretty, sort of major key, with huge sweeping melodies, a dirgey dramatic breakdown in the middle, and a pounding groove laden back half, all complex and mathy, but not at all blazing fast. The weird thing is it really suits them. It makes the perfect balance for the blinding lightning strike of the other more typically furious and fast numbers.�
Probably the coolest song on Rom 5:12 is "Accuser/Opposer", which features�Alan Averill aka Naihmass Nemtheanga from Primordial and Void Of Silence, who adds a whole 'nother dimension with his throaty wailing clean vocals, sounding quite a bit like Mike Scalzi from Slough Feg at moments, wrap your head around that, Slough Feg vocals over dirgey Marduk, hell yeah.�
What else to say? This totally rules, much more varied than past releases, but still with plenty of ultra fast fury and black buzzing blast, but with a whole lot more going on. Definitely one of our favorite Marduk discs...
The return of black metal legends, Panzer Division Marduk and their one speed. VERY VERY FAST. Seems most metalheads who don't like Marduk, just get bored because with the exception of a record/song here and there, Marduk pick a tempo and stick to it. And that tempo is almost always faster than a speeding bullet. But if you're in the mood for some hyper fast, hyper produced, christ hating, poser smashing black metal, then this may just hit the spot. I personally LOVE Marduk and have been listening to this record a bunch.
MPEG Download: "With Satan And Victorious Weapons" [/audio/mardukvictorious.mp3]
MPEG Stream: "With Satan And Victorious Weapons" [/audio/mardukvictorious.m3u]
The year is only just beginning but there have already been some amazing new records released that we're pretty sure will end up on our favorites of '08 list. This new outing by the enigmatic John Maus is one of them and it might just be the most engrossing and addicting albums we've been hooked on in a long time!
Best and barley known in the past as being loosely associated with the Paw Tracks family (Animal Collective, Panda Bear, Ariel Pink) Maus has made a record that will make his name definitely stand on its own. As he's created one of the most fantastical, bizarre and engaging pop records in recent memory. Warped bedroom pop with a flair for fantasy, wrapped in old fucked up synths, deep slowed down vocals, cosmic beats and a singular unique vision. Like OMD on codeine or early home demo recordings of The Cure captured on an answering machine tape that's been dubbed over way too many times. Or imagine a soundtrack to a lost early '80s movie made by both John Hughes and John Carpenter, as romantic teenage life intersects with magical apocalyptic doom! Love Is Real is as creepy and mystifying as it is heartfelt and endearing. As catchy as it is unpredictable. Out of nowhere the synths will rise to crazy loud levels or Maus will let out a haunting scream, and even after listening to this album hundreds of time as we have obsessively already, those parts still jump out, scare, startle and thrill us every time we listen.
Start to finish the album is impeccable. Songs lead into each other perfectly, the pacing is dead on, and every single track on the record belongs where it is and has a weight of its own. Whether it's sounding like the muddiest version of a Psychedelic Furs track or tapping into a bizarre drugged out cosmic disco excursion or having a freaked out panic attack, the record pulls from so many directions while always sounding like a completely other universe. This is what fantasy sounds like when the world around you is falling apart. Totally amazing!
Not to be confused with the John Maus who was in the Walker Brothers in the '60s this John Maus has been making warped baroque pop in the cozy confines of his bedroom in Minnesota for the last several years and is best known for his contributions to Ariel Pink and Animal Collective offshoot Panda Bear. Maus is one seriously prolific songwriter who until now has kept pretty much all of his own songs to himself. "Songs" is a collection of some of those dark pop offerings recorded at home over the last few years. Channeling the spirit of Ian Curtis and using vintage electronic equipment, Maus's songs evoke a hazy kind of daydreaming but with a much more morose slant. His deep voice got us thinking of folks like Calvin Johnson, Scott Walker and on the first track he's a dead ringer for Robert Smith. Dark weird pop done right!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Warning: extremely graphic cover photo of their singer, not long after his rather messy shotgun suicide. Besides that, and the performance of equally dead guitarist Euronymous (who perhaps snapped said photo after sampling some delectable brain, or so he bragged), this live album has renditions of Venom and Celtic Frost classics to recommend it.
For their sophomore full length, Canada's Menace Ruine return not exactly as the heavy noise inspired black metal band you know and love, but as a neo-folk, noise-rock powerhouse. You may be wondering like us: did we miss something? And what exactly is the link? Well, maybe it's the misanthropic, anti-humanist ethos shared by both neo-folk and black metal artists that somehow ties them together. Or maybe it's the fascination with all things medieval. Or maybe it's the general brooding and ever-present sense of darkness. Could it be written off as a shared love of sonic tension? Wait, wait ... there is a difference between them somewhere, right? As the label astutely points out, in the wake of both Leviathan and Nachtmystium covering Death in June, this sort of explicit crossover makes tons of sense. And really, it might be a tad reductive to simply say that this sounds like a black metal band that wrote songs for Der Blutharsch, but it's not too far off the mark. Menace Ruine probably couldn't escape their uber-noise tendencies even if they wanted to, but other than that, the comparison essentially holds true. It is also worth noting that the label mentions an upcoming Merzbow collaboration. Woah! Man, you know a record is good when it isn't simply good, but it leaves your head spinning trying to figure out what just fucking happened, and if you've read this far then you've seen all our questions. This is what you'd hear if Moss, The Dead C, and Douglas P were caught in the middle of some bizarre, church burning audial orgy. Potential fans of something that could convolutedly be described as tortured, grim, militaristic folk-noise will absolutely want this. And if that doesn't scream recommended, then we're not really sure what the hell does.
THE URNS RETURN. We never get tired of that. And we never get tired of Monument Of Urns, whose impossibly beautiful and crushingly suffocatingly heavy slow motion doom seems to effortlessly outpace all their doom-ed brethren. Four releases, each one a single track. A single 3"cd-r, meticulously designed and packaged. Each of those four tracks, massive and expansive, slooooooooooooow and so grimly gorgeous. Even at twenty minutes a pop, we can't ever get enough. The Urns' black doomscapes need to spread and sprawl, for hours, days, weeks. A sonic black plague slowly but systematically infecting the whole world.
For those new to the world of Monument Of Urns, their sound is massive, ultra thick guitars, pummeling drums, howled harsh vocals, glacial tempos, incredible dynamics, complex arrangements, and here on Absence, the band have definitely hit a peak. Not as slow as past releases, this one is a monster. With super dynamic stop start segments, squealing streaks of harmonized feedback, guitars that buzz and crumble. The sound here is as much Eyehategod as Khanate. With a healthy dose of Harvey Milk. In fact, lots of this does definitely sound like a blackened Harvey Milk. The lurching mathy stumble, the churning downtuned chug, always with those feedback filled pauses. And somehow, Urns manage to make this caustic doomed brutality catchy. We even just caught Antaeus humming along with the main riff! We've been bugging the Urns to release a full length, or to let Andee re-release all the 3"s on tUMULt cd. But they are perfectly happy to work at their own pace, to create the elaborate packaging one at a time and by hand. To forge this black art, in some mysterious pit, unleashing each noxious missive, only when they deem we are worthy. So for now, we'll have to be happy with the occasional 20 minute helping of glorious black sludge. And wait patiently for the next one.
As always, the packaging is amazing. An oversized cardstock sleeve, with an outer vellum sleeve, the overlapping designs meshing perfectly, the inside gatefold all elaborate fractals, the cd affixed to a nub on one of the inside panels. So nice.
Finally on cd, this is an AQ favorite from one of our most beloved musicians of the last half century. This new edition includes 3 bonus tracks of some current day folks like Stefan Lakatos adding their own flavor to preexisting Moondog tracks. But of course the real gold here is the original record which is Moondog in his full glory! We only wish this reissue had a little bit more in the way of elaborate packaging as this just comes in a cardboard sleeve. Here is what our pal Dave Katznelson of Birdman Records said about this record when he reviewed it for us back when we had the 10" version in stock:
Originally released on Epic in 1953, this long-playing EP is one of the greatest artifacts of the blind New York percussionist available. On par with the excellent Prestige years, with a similar vibe. However, there is something darker here, with an almost acid edge...and the sounds come ripping off the well-mastered vinyl ever so thickly. This classically packaged ten inch boasts an instrumental round that is the precursor to the great All Is Loneliness To Me, "Rim Shot" which is reminiscent of Tyrannosaurus Rex's "Ruminy Soup", and two suites that brilliantly use lush strings behind the signature Moondog hypnotizing percussion. "Be a hobo and go with me," Moondog sings...and why not join him?
In our minds, one of the greatest composers of the 20th century was a man with a long white beard and a Viking helmet on his head -- Louis Hardin (aka Moondog). Whether it was how he incorporated field recordings into his compositions, unleashed riveting vocal cannons or created confusional worlds of percussion that were light-years ahead of their time, he had such a singular touch and far reaching vision, it's no surprise he's an all time AQ favorite!
While we love so many avant composers of the 20th century, there tends to be an undeniable academic angle to their work which sometimes leaves us a bit cold. Moondog on the other hand employed such a playful approach to his work. Whether he was building his own instruments, creating new scales, experimenting with field recordings, inserting fun wordplay into otherwise austere pieces, you get this amazing sense of playfulness, childlike wonder and a totally unique strangely sophisticated kind of joy. The outsider that he was, Moondog answered to no one. No movement, no school, no tradition. He took his love, appreciation and deep-seated knowledge of classical music, his poetic mind, and his free spirit and created sounds that were like nothing of its time. Losing his eyesight at an early age he began writing scores in Braille. Like most truly special artists, he spent much of his life in relative obscurity, he spent much of the 50's and 60's on New York street corners where he would sell his poems, record the sounds of daily life, and soak in all aspects of his atmosphere. Most New Yorkers just thought they were walking by some crazy homeless guy in a Viking costume, they had no idea they were passing one of the most brilliant musical minds of the last century. Thanks to the help of some of his big fans like Janis Joplin, who covered "All Is Loneliness" on her first outing with Big Brother Holding Company, he got a record deal with Columbia and eventually recorded with the London Symphony, and then spent the last 20+ years of his life in Germany where a rich family supported him while he continued to make music, up until the time of his death. His influence runs so deep and continues to spread among the musical underground, but also slowly but surely permeates into mainstream music. There is talks of a tribute album coming soon, in the '90s many hip-hop and electronic producers sampled his works and many avant electronic folks were definitely influenced by his strange musicks, including Mr. Scruf, DJ Shadow and Aphex Twin. Antony and The Johnsons have been doing an amazing version of "All Is Loneliness" in their live show, and you can hear echoes of Moondog's sounds in everyone from Rhys Chatham, to Jon Brion, to Steve Reich, to Philip Glass and even The Residents. The cost on this collection finally dropped down from a prohibitively steep import price so now we finally can list this and urge you to let these 36 songs introduce you to what will no doubt be a life long love affair with one of our favorite musical minds of all time!
Earache's classic vinyl reissue campaign marches on, now hitting us with Morbid Angel's amazing 1989 debut album, "Altars Of Madness". David Vincent's Satanic growl, Pete "Commando" Sandoval's drum artillery, and the squiggly guitar "lava" of bloody Trey Azagthoth and Pete Brunelle: the might of these eventual kings of death metal was on full display here, with some highlights being "Maze of Torment", "Lord of All Fevers And Plague", and "Chapel of Ghouls". Evil Florida death metal, ah those were the days! (But, this this was only their "A" album, they're at "G" in the alphabet now and still going strong.) Reissued on heavy, colored wax, by the way, like the rest of this Earache vinyl series, which is definitely reminding us of how incredible a roster this record label boasted in its prime. Again, those were the days... (CDs still available, of course.)
Deluxe cd reissue of Morbid Angel's classic second helping of death metal mastery, their "B" album (coming between "Altars Of Madness" and "Covenant"). With Pete "Commando" Sandoval's blasting drum artillery, Dave Vincent's aggro growl, and Trey Azagthoth's unhinged squiggly guitar leads, these Floridians made death metal for Satan that was bloodier and blacker than anything outta Norway before or since. Their whole catalog is crucial death metal but "Blessed Are The Sick" holds a special place in our hearts. Here their sick, Slayer to the power of Slayer speed collided with classically-inspired keyboard ambience and doomy dirges, taking death metal to a significant high point of both ridiculous excess and truly affecting evil atmosphere.
The original thanks lists in the cd booklet really says it all. Trey Azagthoth says, in part: "I hail to you Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It is to you I dedicate all my works of past present and future. May they outshine the shadowing voices of this other factor of psychic we share existance with. You are the greatest composer of us all. Hail to you O Ancient Ones, Absu Mummu Tiamat, Kutulu, Pazuzu, Humwawa, Xaztur, Hubbur, Kingu, Baxaxaxa Baxaxaxa, The Arylia of Mummu Tiamat, The churning seas of Nar Mattaru, Yog Sothoth, and the ever bubbly bubblies of Shub Niggurath..."
Basically, if you're even a dabbler in "extreme metal" you need to have this disc in your collection, and better late that never, especially as it now comes packaged in a cardboard slipcase, with a Quicktime video for the title track (done all MTV-style) included on the disc, liner notes from Trey, and lotsa photos.
MPEG Download: "Fall From Grace" [/audio/morbidangelfall.mp3]
Abject, miserable, mournful, agonized, anguished, tortured and tormented ultra mega doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! That's right. We've officially reached an all time high in o's (40 in case you were counting), and an all time loooooow in DOOM. Every time we hear from these crushing creeps they've pushed it even further into the deep dark damnable depths, forcing us to add more and more o's. That's right, it's the return of Moss, the UK's heaviest, slowest, sludgiest slow motion downtuned doom metal behemoth. Moss take the paint peeling acidic abrasiveness of Khanate and combine it with the warm suffocating murk of bands like Skepticism or Thergothon, or even aQ faves Nadja (who did a split with Moss a while back). Ultra minimal and nearly static in its sludginess, with the simple caveman plod of the drums the only thing keeping this from turning into a full on drone, this is like one HUGE riff, pulled and stretched into two epic streaks of fuzz and pound, with vocals that might even give Alan Dubin from Khanate a bit of a fright, like a demon howling through a mouthful of broken glass and rusty bottlecaps, teeth black with the blood of a thousand vanquished souls, the sound that finally comes out is a noxious black cloud that causes everything it touches to wither and die, totally blown out and so harsh it makes our throats sore just listening to it.
But like the best sludge / doom, there is some sort of subtle melodic undercurrent going on, maybe it's deliberate and these guys are on some whole other musical level or maybe it's just some chance occurance, some strange alignment of overtones or some lucky bit of abstract composition, it hardly matters, the end result is somehow both hauntingly beautiful and horrifically harsh, there's definitely some dark beauty hidden beneath Moss' black sludge exterior, but the joy of music like this is the fact that the music's beauty is buried and bruised, battered and brutalized, the sonic search for the beauty within is like wading waist deep through boiling hot pitch, ears plugged with hot tar, all the while being showered from above by the tears of angels.
It's been a while since we've had to employ multiple 'o's in a review. A bit of a death of doom it seems. Or at least the sort of doom that requires all those extra 'o's. A loyal customer of ours even whipped up this [http://www.aquariusrecords.org/doomchart.html] "doom chart" based on our usage of multiple 'o'd doom in reviews!
And if memory serves, Moss was one of the bands that routinely got described as doooom, or doooooooooom, and sometimes even doooooooooooooooooooooooom. So we were all ready to put finger to key and just let the 'o's roll out, one after the other after the other, until we felt we had conveyed the crushing doom of Moss. That is until we pressed play, and were treated to "Ritus", a five and a half minute soundscape of whirring synths and washed out ambience, of cymbal sizzle and proggy keyboard drones, of whispered voices and buzzing shimmer. Hmmm. The liner notes say it's inspired by Doris Norton, an electronic musician who's also a member of AQ faves Jacula!! An interesting start from one of the sludgiest, crustiest bands around. Doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom. Ahh. That's better. The second track returns us to that dank dark sloooooooooow place Moss call home. Twenty three minutes of downtuned crush, the tempo only slightly faster than the growth of actual moss. But even all gnarled and sludge-y, something has definitely changed. It's not nearly as filthy, and harsh, it's actually weirdly pretty. Almost like it's some more melodic metal record being spun manually with one finger at 3 or 4 rpm. The distortion is still dense, the long drawn out chords seeming to crumble, the drums spaced way out, but somehow still more buys than you're average ultradoom drummer, the vocals are still harsh and howling, but somehow, they too seem to be a bit more smooth, further down in the mix, like another layer of sound, the howls allowed to unfurl into another layer of buzz. It's strange, but we definitely dig. And we're not saying this is NOTHING like old Moss, or folks into Bunkur and Esoteric and the like won't love it, you will, the differences are subtle, and the sound is just a little bit, well, prettier, if you can imagine something bleak and black and harsh and hateful being pretty. Which we can!
The next track, a nine minute dirge, is a bit more raw and rough, most of that prettiness we were blathering on about above is GONE. Shrieking feedback, the drums even slower and more spare, the guitars even more distorted and the vocals throat shreddingly harsh, the tempo slightly accelerated, bordering on Eyehategod territory.
But it's all bout the closer, "Gate III: Devils From The Outer Dark". Clocking in at 35 minutes + and beginning with a churning sea of downtuned rumble and buzz, before the drums finally kick in, and f course by kick in we mean pound sporadically. This track is WAY more than a dirge. It makes the track before it sound like thrash metal. This is slooooooow and so so so so dooooooooooooooooooomy. The guitars thick and corrosive, the chords allowed to ring way out and fade away before the next one drops in to take its place, but weirdly enough, this one too sounds sort of pretty, not like the opening track, but still very dreamlike and mesmerizing. Long streaks of feedback spread out over wide open expanses of minimal thud and warm warped slow motion buzz, when the vocals drop out, it becomes something entirely different, finishing off with several minutes of thick low end drone, the guitars rumbling and wrapped into a thick nearly static pulse, something truly hypnotic and almost spacey, but without sacrificing a single one of those extra 'o's.
Definitely a progression, a band can only pound and plod for so long, but so subtle that the casual listener might not even notice. "Oh yeah, heavy, slow, dooooooom", but as with most music, deep listening reveals a whole lot more going on beneath the surface, and once your ears lock on to that stuff, even the sounds on the surface begin to sound different.
WAY RECOMMENDED for the doom-ed amongst you. And just cuz we knew you were waiting for it, Sub Templum could very well be doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom disc of the year!!
If they gave out Nobel prizes for doom metal, whoever it was that managed to get UK doomsludge combo Moss together with French Sanrio doomsters Monarch, would be a shoe in. And it's not just the killer combo, or the alliterative band names, it's the song choice. As if Moss doing Discharge weren't enough for you, Monarch tackle Turbonegro's all time classic "I Got Erection"!
Moss transform Discharge's punky stomp into a barely moving morass of sludgy pound. Sounding very much like Eyehategod, with simple pummeling drums, howled vocals, and of course guitars tuned as low as they can go before the strings drop off like wet noodles. On top of all the murk, drift weird high end streaks of surprisingly melodic feedback, giving the whole track a haunting and ominous vibe.
Where Moss, turned their song inside out and basically made it their own, Monarch, after a misleading ultra slow count in, do "Erection" pretty straight (ahem), the riff immediately recognizable, same with the "woooooah ooooh" background vocals, so it's up to vocalist Emilie, to make "Erection" her own, and she does, delivering the goofiest, most brilliant lines ever, in a raspy feminine snarl "When I dig a hole... Erection!" It's definitely Monarch at their speediest, and certainly most melodic, and we have to say it sort of suits them. Maybe even better than when black metallers Satyricon covered the same track on a Turbonegro tribute disc some years back, and that was pretty killer too.
And of course, SUPER LIMITED!
The unexpected return of one of the most infamous black metal bands of the nineties, French horde Mutiilation (yep, two 'i's), one of the best known of the Black Legions bands (along with Vlad Tepes and Bleketre) even though technically Mutiilation was kicked out of the group early on for abusing drugs (who knew a black metal 'collective' would have such a tough stance on drugs?) although another report replaces drugs with an argument about Meyhna'ch from Mutiilation's childhood molestation by his father, which seems even stranger...
Lots of folks were bummed out on the last two Mutiilation discs, Majestas Leprosus and Rattenkonig, although if you ask us, it might have been more a case, of that cooler than though "oh I only like the old stuff" sort of thing, cuz both those records were pretty fierce and furious, grim and black. But Sorrow Galaxies is definitely an improvement on both of those, being that there's now live drums, and the songs are much more fleshed out, more melodic, longer and more varied, lots of doomy slow parts and half time breakdowns scattered amidst the blasting buzz. It definitely doesn't compare to the first two, since for one, it doesn't sound shitty, er, we mean cvlt, it actually sounds lush and heavy, a seriously great production, and because it's been 12 years since Vampires of Black Imperial Blood, the world has changed and one would assume that so has Mutiilation mainman Meyhna'ch (who also fronts Malicious Secrets, Hell Militia and Gestapo 666).
It seems like most of us were sort of assuming Mutiilation were dead and gone, it had only been 2 years since the last record, but there has been barely a peep about Sorrow Galaxies until it was suddenly out. But the fact that there was a new record was the first surprise, the second was how cool and weird the new record is. Four long tracks, the shortest 9+ minutes, the longest 12+, each one epic and expansive, and as mentioned above, super lush and complex, with the addition of haunting samples, gorgeous melancholy melodies over slow buzz, garbled super effected vocals, creepy ambience, all woven into and around some thick relentless riffing, the guitars buzzy, but not brittle, instead thick and warm, a swirled washed out vibe, that makes the whole record sound even darker and more melancholy, a bit like Xasthur in that respect, but these songs are dense and serpentine, with blurred blasts separated by strange, almost proggy breakdowns, the guitars angular and obtuse, a sort of stumbling mournful doom, but the tracks never veer far from another burst of dense black blur and anguished buzz.
The best track is definitely "The Coffin Of Lost Innocence" with its killer super melodic main riff, and it's almost Black Flag sounding verse, the guitar doing some sort of muffled chug, before slipping back into the haunting fluid minor key melodic refrain, so so pretty and sad sounding, even the fastest and heaviest bits are rife with melancholy, the drums a strange convoluted rhythm beneath, not a blast, a weird shuffle, with some truly intense and moving ambient interludes. Who would have thought a Mutiilation song could be so pretty, and emotional, and still be black and grim. But it really suits them. All four tracks definitely have that vibe, although maybe not to that extent.
"Cesium Syndrome 86" has some strange breakdowns in the middle, and a strangely groovy bridge, peppered with all sorts of strange effects, atonal chords and lots of random bits of dialogue, while the epic closer, "Acceptance Of My Decay" begins with some awesome and unlikely high end guitar lick, that continues on beneath the warm buzzing blast that takes us into the rest of the song. There's also an almost cabaret sounding middle portion, and the end just loops the same minor key riff over and over, before dissolving into a confusional, partially ambient coda, with that strange lick resurfacing, more voices and dialogue, soft synth swells, and what sounds like a distant heartbeat.
Pretty fucking awesome. Not at all what we were expecting, but way better than just a Vampires Of Black Blood part two, although we're sure the grim black hordes might think otherwise...
This is as grim as it gets. Yet another legendary lost French black metal classic gets reissued. The French Black Legions, Vlad Tepes, Belketre and Mutiilation (yes, two i's are more evil than one) were stirring up black clouds of hate way back in the early nineties, early enough to influence basically every black metal band worth a shit, but a little too early (and a little to far from Norway) to be caught up in the black metal mania that made Emperor, Mayhem, Satyricon and the like household words (even in only mildly blackened households). But that's probably for the best. As their records became impossible to find, and only the grimmest and truest BM warriors could boast of ever having heard Mutiilation, their legacy and legend as black metal visionaries was sealed. And listening to this, arguably their best and most revered release, it's easy to see why. And let's not forget that Mutiilation continue to record, having just released a brand new record earlier this year, easily as grim and buzzy and amazing as ever. Vampires Of Black Imperial Blood, released in 1995, sold out of its limited pressing and has remained incredibly difficult to find for years. So this reissue is a godsend (um, devilsend?) with extra artwork, two bonus tracks and remastered sound. But no amount of remastering can disguise the ultra primitive sound quality, that 4-track, practice space sort of recording, the -sound- that fits this sound so perfectly, making Darkthrone sound downright hi-fi. Buzzing minor key guitars, a mournful sounding arpeggiated midtempo droniness that certainly informed Xasthur's sepia toned fuzz, chaotic way-up-in-the-mix drums, guttural, growled vocals, and strangest of all some really catchy songs underneath all that buzz and blackness,
Even this reissue is for some reason ULTRA LIMITED, so if we run out we may not be able to get more.
As we recently listed My Bloody Valentine's hard to find collection "Ecstacy and Wine" as well as their masterpiece "Loveless," it's about time that we got "Isn't Anything" into the Aquarius Records archives.
I seem to remember an odd anecdote about the recording process of this album, that it was recorded somewhere in the outskirts of their native Dublin near a sheep farm and the band ended up crashing at the studio throughout the entire recording session. Yet, their sleep patterns were constantly interrupted by the incessant bleating of those sheep, and the collective insomnia contributed to the lethargy and torpor found within "Isn't Anything." Of course, I've been unable to verify this story with anything factual, but this album sure does sound sleepy, mostly sliding towards the realm of deep slumber, but occasionally hopped-up on punchy sleep-deprived nerves.
In the name of revisionist history, "Isn't Anything" stands as the transition album between the gilded jangle of "Ecstacy and Wine" and the radioluminescence of "Loveless." My Bloody Valentine had begun to bury much of their emulation of '60s psychedelic pop in Sonic Youth mack-truck riffage and intertwining guitar haze that upstages the Velvet Underground strum-as-drone. Tracks like "Feed Me With Your Kiss" and "Sueisfine" thickly blur the sad lullaby vocals from Kevin Shields and Bilinda Butcher through overblown bass distortion and strangely uptempo rhythms. Yet, My Bloody Valentine will instantly glide out of these into the shoegazing drone-pop of something like "Lose My Breath" with its tone bending extended chords and lack of pronounced rhythms. Only a couple of the songs on "Isn't Anything" are as memorable as those found on "Loveless," but there are plenty of swirling dreamy-pop songs that make this album a treat for shoegazing fans!
We just realised that this record, one of AQ unanimous all time favorites, never got listed on the website OR the AQ list. And while most of you may already have this, a few of you are in for a big surprise and a musical awakening. "Loveless" stands at the
That track along with the equally groovy-yet-dreamy "Glider" ep had been the basis for Simon Reynolds curious thesis that My Bloody Valentine had produced some of the earliest jungle tracks. More plausible was that MBV were one of the first rock bands to actively incorporate sampling into their production techniques. My Bloody Valentine had resampled their guitar feedback digitally to created strangely warbling layers of sound and allow for additional tools to build their bittersweet, melancholic melodies. "Loveless" may remain the final testament to the musical prowess of My Bloody Valentine, as Kevin Shields continues to state the claim that another album is in the works... well it's been in the works for over a decade and has no signs of ever being realized. Nevertheless, this album *still* sounds totally fresh and wholly superior to all of the bands that have attempted to revive the My Bloody Valentine sound (Lilys, Swirlies, Flying Saucer Attack, Third Eye Foundation, Fennesz, Chessie, etc, etc, etc).
Perhaps our opinion best stated by former Aquarian Marc Kate: "If you don't own it, I won't be mad, but you will certainly earn my pity." An earthshattering record. Period.
Chicago's psychedelic black metallers Nachtmystium have a full-length coming out on Century Media full-length (called, wait for it, Assassins: Black Meddle Part I... no really, get it? 'Cause they love that early Pink Floyd) and this ep is a teaser of sorts, maybe...
Originally meant to be a split with Leviathan, we don't actually know how much this ep is indicative of what's to come on that full-length. There's just two new songs here, one very very psych, slow and spacey ("Worldfall") and another much more traditionally black metally ("Depravity"). There's also a re-recording of an older tune of theirs ("Solitary Voyage"), and two covers: Death In June's "Rose Clouds Of Holocaust" and Goatsnakes's "IV", interesting 'cause industrial-folk and Sabbathy stoner-doom are not exactly Nachtmystium's core sound.
So, how does it stack up? We gotta say whoa, the blasting tracks two and three remind us a lot of With Fear I Kiss the Burning Darkness era At the Gates. Fucking rad! Also, the Death In June cover is shockingly faithful to the original, and the Goatsnake cover is pretty good too, even those of us who don't like Goatsnake that much agreed. Again it's pretty faithful, but has been black metallized with raspy vocals improving upon the original... so, something for everyone here, or maybe just for Nachtmystium fans.
Folks who managed to catch Nadja performing live at aQuarius not too long ago, were treated to quite possibly the heaviest, catchiest, grooviest Nadja track yet. An awesome hook filled seventies rock style ultra jam, wrapped in thick clouds of billowing distortion and anchored by the crunch and pound of programmed beats, Aidan Baker's vocals a whispered croon, Leah Buckareff's bass throbbing and rumbling, but the main riff, SHIT, unbelievable, even after our ears stopped ringing, we were all humming that riff for days...
Well the funny thing we learned later, was that there song was in fact a cover. And an incredibly unlikely cover at that. The only obvious link between the original and the band covering it? Canada. The song, some of you might remember, is in fact from the Kids In The Hall movie Brain Candy, and proves that Nadja can turn hooky pop into hooky sludge-y doom. The chorus is an absolute killer, and similar to how Torche transform pop into skullcrushing hook filled heaviness, Nadja take that pop and wrap it all up in some of their distinctive blissed out fuzz and we're talking HIT. Well, a hit if there were actually some sort of blissdoomdronesludgepop chart. Which there should be. And there sort of is, in our heads, but anyway...
Even though this is one of FIVE Nadja releases on this week's list, and they're all pretty amazing, this one might just be the most essential of them all.
LIMITED of course. One sided vinyl, hand letterpressed covers, pressed on all sorts of different colors, including black, don't ask, you'll get what you get!
With some bands, you want something new and different every record, strange new sounds, that confound as much as confuse, pushing boundaries, and stretching the limit of that band's 'sound'. But some groups, you don't want to ever change. You want every record to be a continuation of the one before it, you long for some way to make every song, and every record, seemingly play forever. Each release, more like a movement in a massive symphony stretched out over multiple records and multiple years.
The key though, is to somehow, within this sonic stasis, to continue to evolve, however subtly. Sure the sound remains unchanged, the tone and timbre is consistent. But within these boundaries, the songs do in fact change and shift, and offer up new ideas, new landscapes of sound, new hooks, new angles with which to hear, varied and wonderfully assorted pieces of a bigger whole.
Such is the case with dreamdoom duo Nadja, who much like their mainman Aidan Baker, release records at an alarming rate, often topping one a month, and while it's been challenging to review each and every one, we have, and we've enjoyed all of them. But listening to this latest Nadja, we began to view the band, and their record differently. There was no point in approaching this record as if it was their first, or as if it was something completely new, that we'd never heard before. Because we have. It's quite similar to past Nadja releases, the sound they've created is so much their own, the guitar impossibly full and blown out, organic, but wreathed in digital fuzz, and it's no studio trick, they played right here in aQ, and even at a less than deafening (but still plenty loud, thank you!) volume, they managed to conjure up the same heaving heaviness, the same gauzy atmospheres, the buried thump of the drum machine. In fact, as I was writing this, someone came up and asked if this was Nadja. C'mon! Most doom bands, drone bands, heck non-pop bands in general, you'd be hard pressed to immediately recognize. But Nadja have transcended all the descriptors often flung at them, doom, shoegaze, drone, metalgaze, they all apply, but none so much more than simply the name Nadja.
So why buy this one? Or the two forthcoming releases? Or the 30 or 40 past releases? Well, if you're like us, we can't get enough of the sound of Nadja. And like we mentioned above, we HAVE figured out a way to make this sound go on forever. Each record, takes the dense blissed out buzz, the lurching doomic trudge, the gloriously effulgent majesty of Nadja, and stretches it out just a little bit further. Each time adding something crucial that wasn't there before. On Skin Turns to Glass, the songs are evenmore meditative and repetitive, looped endlessly, the riffs churning mantra-like, a buzzing slow motion hynorock, separated by spaced out stretches of glimmering ambience, and deep cavernous drones. Every Nadja record we're tempted to declare it the best yet, but we'd bet you if we went back to one of the first releases, we'd immediately think that it was in fact the best one. Such is the magic of Nadja, the sound they've created, the soundworld, each piece is as important as any other, the sound wouldn't be complete, in fact can naver be truly complete, until there are no more records, no more songs, no more pieces to add to the ever expanding puzzle. Hopefully that will never happen.
Includes an unlisted bonus track, nearly thirty minutes of shimmering doomic minimalism, droning dark bliss, that explodes in the last minute or so, in a flurry of incendiary white noise, a drum damaged blown out psychguitar metallic meltdown, that ends quite abruptly, leaving us to wait patiently for the next movement, coming soon...
While not a 'new' record per se, Touched, by AQ dreamdoom faves Nadja is in fact their newest release, a collection of older tracks, from a long out of print cd-r, reworked and retooled into arguably one of the prettiest, heaviest, most blissed out doom records of recent memory.
Which makes sense when you consider the fact that Nadja mastermind Aidan Baker, spends the rest of his time creating gorgeous, fuzzy dark ambient soundscapes, all of which end up informing his more metallic alter ego, turning what could have been a run of the mill funereal downtuned trudge, into a mind bending, ear melting psychedelic drift.
Quite possibly the heaviest Nadja record yet, this is a serious slab of spaced out, acid fried, FX drenched doom, all wrapped in thick swirls of soft fuzz, and dense clouds of blurry buzz, a monstrous caveman plod through a thick, smeary sonic storm. It's like Godflesh wrapped in My Bloody Valentine filtered through some Wolf Eyes, or the Swans covered by the Jesus And Mary Chain, remixed by Tim Hecker. Or even Mogwai's Young Team run through a bank of effects pedals and played back at 16rpm. Heavy and pretty, punishing but strangely serene.
And then there are the vocals, soft and lilting and dreamy, fluttering and floating amidst the crash and cacophony, like mysterious spectres, an amazing juxtaposition of industrial throb and glistening shimmer, which ends up sounding almost more Jesu than Jesu.
The guitars are massive, but instead of sounding like the black tar rumble of impossibly downtuned strings, or the jagged crunch and black buzz of other purveyors of metallic slowmotion, Nadja transform their guitars into thick washes of textured sound, constantly pulsing and throbbing, changing shape and color, thick and dense and suffocating, like being submerged in some strange viscous liquid, warm and syrupy, heard from inside this strange sonic cocoon, the outside world becomes a buzzy blur, all the beats and vocals, when they finally make it to your ears, are dull murky plods, or distant wisps of melody.
Each track, at its center, contains a perfect little pop core, some gorgeously melancholy melody, a seriously sublimated hook, which is summarily stretched and twisted into long black stretches of blown out sound, an impossibly heavy slowcore, the poppiness, all but totally obscured by the coruscating sheets of sonic rumble and whir, the pumelling pound, and the gauzy swaths of dreamy shimmer. A never ending (we wish) trudge through epic landscapes of black beauty and bleak mystery.
Doom was never meant to sound this pretty, but we're sure as hell not complaining!
We haven't been able to list much Nargaroth, unfortunately, mostly because we've been unable to get enough in stock. But as far as elite black metal goes, Nargaroth stands tall in a dubious pantheon that also includes AQ faves Graveland. Hateful German TRUE black metal, Nargaroth have been spewing anti-Christian vitriol for years now, culminating in their legendary Black Metal Ist Krieg album from 2001. So here we have Kanwulf's (the man who is Nargaroth) latest missive, and it's as bleak and miserably misanthropic as ever. Four epic tracks of brittle frosty guitars, plodding midtempos, struggling simplistic drumming, occasional fuzzed out blast beats, throat shredding howls and truly cold cold atmospheric ambience. It's all about the DRONE and the DIRGE. Ten plus minutes of the same riff, sawing away and lulling you into a trancelike state, letting the minor key melodies drift from beneath the sheets of icy guitars and and settle on your lifeless body, entranced by the endless riffage. Seriously, this is like a black metal Gore (Dutch hypno metallers who specialised in repetition). So endless and hypnotic and totally transcendent. And like most black metal we champion, just to keep you confused, there are lots of ambient forest sounds, birds, dripping water, rain, and of course didgeridoos(!). Plus inexplicably, the photo of Kanwulf on the inside of the digipak has lyrics from the Moody Blues' "Knights In White Satin" printed over it!
Talk about cult black metal! Nargaroth's Rasluka Part II (not sure what happened to Part I...) pretty much defines it. This four song, 25 minute ep is the latest blast of hate-filled mayhem from infamous German black metal maniac Kanwulf and his hordes.
Like all true black metal, this begins with a creepy intro track, featuring someone playing a recorder along to a bunch of morosely-quacking ducks, which then gives way to Naragoth's equally morose but much louder buzzing guitar/drum pound and vocal rasping, a la Burzum, Mayhem, Darkthrone. Nice n' evil like it should be. But despite the almost symphonic, ambient cascades of distortion in which their music is bathed, as well as Kanwulf & Co.'s questionable ideology, this is still at heart simply rock n' roll -- which goes some way to explaining why track four is preceded by sound samples discussing the drunken death of AC/DC's original singer Bon Scott!
This is the one! If you've ever heard someone playing Milton Nascimento, some sweet soothing sounds dazzling your ears, chances are it was this record. As many of us can attest to, just picking out any Milton Nascimento record can be a bit risky as his entire back catalog is quite varied and there are some not so hot moments, but all sins are forgiven with this record, an album that we dare say ranks as one of our favorite albums of all time!
Clube Da Esquina is a stunning disc of psychedelic pop that manage to be as dreamy and pastoral as it is tropical and full of life. Bursting with warmth and rich color this is a record we will never get sick of. It's not psychedelic in an obvious look-how-weird-I-can-be way, but instead it's about a slow melting lull, soft swirls and subtle shifts in sounds. One moment it's the dreamiest most lovely song you've ever heard and the next the warm sun is shining and all you want to be doing is running and twirling in the sand. As lush, gorgeous and dynamic as anything Caetano Veloso has created. We can't praise this record enough! Lo Borges is the big unsung hero of this album, not even 20 years old when it was made he helped with many of the arrangements, sang and wrote many of the songs...
Truly a perfect album from start to finish, an hour long trip filled with sunshine and surprise, melody and sophisticated glory. It's no surprise that songs on this record have been covered by the likes of Savath & Savalas and Tortoise and Bonnie Prince Billy. As these are songs that will always sound so alive and of the moment. Undoubtedly it's a record that's had a huge impact on everyone from Devendra Banhart, The Shins, Eden Express, Beck, Brightblack, Vetiver, Jose Gonzales, etc. And a must have for anyone who loves folks like Veloso, Gerard Manset, Eduardo Mateo, Congregacion, Alceu Valenca, Serge Gainsbourg, The Beatles, Melting Glass Box, Magical Power Mako, etc. No matter how obscure or mainstream your tastes tend to be, this is one of those records whose beauty and genius just can't be denied. We know we're always telling you about so many amazing records that you really just can't live without, but this time (again!) we really mean it!
We're all geeks here at Aquarius. There is no way around it. Japanese this, Finnish that, some grim black metal album recorded in a garbage can in the Norwegian woods, whatever. But we still really love getting a great pop/punk/shoegaze album. And if you can stomach the idea of saying that for once, "the hype" isn't completely unfounded, then No Age might just be your band. Now, as we plod through Spring, looking toward Summer, nothing is more important than a good warm weather soundtrack! Enter Nouns, No Age's first full-length release brought to us by Sub Pop. Well, Fat Cat compiled the duo's first handful of 7"s in a full-length format, entitled Weirdo Rippers, but this is their first complete album proper. As you may know or guess, Weirdo was a bit patchy, which worked in its favor, really. The start stop action propelled it more than might be expected. So, for this release one could only be curious: What the hell will a No Age record sound like, and what kind of flow will it have? The width and breadth of their sound remains just as large - one part sloppy '90s punk and one part My Bloody Valentine - but there is a greater sense of cohesion. The qualities and characteristics of the recording itself are more consistent too. Also, there is a noticeable increase in the number of guitar layers as well, which means some more complex melodies. There's even a guitar "solo" at one point. Do it. Now's the time. Put on the new No Age record, go in your closet, grab your Chuck Taylors, grab a Mountain Dew - or some other highly caffeinated beverage - and have a pre-Summer Summertime party. Recommended.
Remember why you fell in love with punk rock? The fearless spirit, the ethos, the sweat, the youthful energy, the conviction, the elation. Remember why you eventually got bored with punk rock? The predictability, the empty slogans, the forced posturing, the generic delivery. Well lucky for many of us past punkers, No Age are doing an amazing job of reminding us of a time when it felt like punk rock could save lives.
No Age (not to be confused with the nineties musical movement) are a duo from Los Angeles who have gained a cult-following for their totally engaging and sweat filled live shows. Wild performances on their home turf, at the tiny LA club The Smell, are legendary. They've also put out a handful of kick ass, but now impossible to find 7"s. But lucky for those of us who missed the boat on those 45's, Fat Cat has put them all together on this here cd. Now we know why people have been freaking out over this band.
Imagine a youthful exuberance that feels so pure and sincere by guys who love Black Flag and Fugazi as much as they do My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive. In fact there's a lot about No Age that makes us think of prime-era Husker Du, all kinds of great lo-fi feedback and shoegaze moments infused with some serious punk rock spirit. Unpredictable and so immediate, for once the hype is totally right!
There's very few comparisons to listening to Nokturnal Mortum. The Charlie Daniels Band jammin' with Emperor? Bizarre black metal hoedown? Some sort of line dancing campfire jamboree gone horribly horribly wrong? The unholy spawn of the grimmest black metal and a hauntingly festive medieval gypsy folk? Okay, so maybe there are more than a few comparisons, but they all tend to center around NM's unlikely country-gypsy-folk / black metal hybrid. Precisely what makes them so completely and bizarrely brilliant. This Ukranian horde unleash the ghost hounds and the battle commences with the sounds of galloping horses, strange battle horns, the strangled cries of wounded beasts, the clatter of steel on chain mail, sounds that continue throughout the entire record. It's almost like a field recording of some epic medieval battle, a mad dash through corpse strewn villages, with occasional bursts of black metal buzz from some random corpsepainted ghouls playing in the smoking rubble of a burnt and blackened tavern, or from within a copse of twisted trees, the metal soon drifts into the background as you head deeper into the forest, are farther out upon the battlefield. Nokturnal Mortum's particular take on black metal tends toward the buzzing midtempo gallop and lope, thick and gnarled and fuzzed out, a la Burzum, Graveland, Woodtemple, etc. But more often than not, these black bursts twist into unlikely shapes, blackened metallic jigs, strangely festive and rollicking but still razor sharp and dense with guitar buzz and ripping riffs, jubilant (yet still slightly ominous) gypsy stomps, but laced with spiky guitars and blasting drums. Most noticeable this time around are the extensive ambient interludes, swooshy, starlit night twinkle and shimmer, lush wooshes over tinkly melodies, almost new age-y at moments, but it's not long before you are felled once again by a sharp slab of utter blackness, or a rollicking jubilant mace to the temple, all part of the curious journey through Nokturnal Mortum's bizarrely blackened world.
While they last we have the super deluxe oversized hardcover book version (limited to 1000 copies), once we run out of those you'll get the regular jewel case version (which also happens to be cheaper!).
As of the writing of this review, it's the day after Christmas, and as is befitting such a holiday, this list is HEAVY on the black metal, our little way of helping those black hearted souls and accursed spirits out there celebrate in their own demonic way. But what that also means, is we were down near metalled out. There's only so many ways you can describe something that is black and buzzing and grim and brutal and frosty and kvlt....
But the second we threw this one, none of that mattered. This was the only black metal there was, virtually erasing all that came before, a sound so powerful and unique and YES, black and buzzing, that we were immediately reinvigorated and filled with sinister black glee. If glee can in fact be either sinister or black.
Since we first reviewed Old Wainds a while back, people have been obsessed, and as we mentioned in the other reviews, OW are one of the few bands that virtually ALL other black metal bands seem to worship. Whatever it is abut these mysterious Russians, they've tapped into something magical that no one can seem to get enough of. For a brief period we had all the Old Wainds records, but gradually it become harder and harder to get them back in stock. Until now. Finally a US label has taken up the mantle and embarked on a comprehensive OW reissue program, elsewhere on this list you'll find the mind blowing Scalding Coldness, reissued, and WAY cheaper, and almost more exciting than that, this record right here, their first full length from back in 2001, Religion Of Spiritual Violence, was the only one we had never been able to get. So for a lot of you, this will be the first time you'll get a chance to complete (or begin!) your Old Wainds collection, and needless to say for fans of all things buzzing and black, this is IT.
It's really hard to put into words exactly what makes Old Wainds different than the hordes of other BM outfits, they definitely have an old school Darkthrone vibe, sort of punky, but they're just as likely to explode into a burst of impossibly fast blasting blackness a la Immortal or something. The vocals are super strange, less a demonic howl and more a sort of evil croak, and the lyrics are in Russian which makes it even cooler. But the music, while no doubt indebted to other BM bands, manages to sound like nothing else. Swirling chaotic riffing, strange mathy drumming, the cymbals super loud in the mix for some reason, as are the vocals, almost like the buzzing guitars are just a sheet of fuzzy blackness, a backdrop for the satanic invective and the barrage of crashing cymbals.
This is indeed grim and harsh stuff, whether churning along in a midtempo Burzumic pound or spraying black fury within a flailing blast, the sound is just so NOT normal, on the surface it sounds like 'black metal', but it's twisted, cracked, infused with a harrowing anger, with a utterly bleak worldview, with a unfailing misanthropy, which leaches into the sounds, and beyond all that, as with any black metal that demands repeated listening, there's tons of stuff going on, including a ton of hooks, sure they're bent and blackened and buried beneath layers of grit and grim and buzz, but they seep out, some of these riffs are as catchy as any pop song.
Just listen to the sound samples, read the other reviews for more about the band, their records, their sound, but odds are, like us, you'll be forever in thrall to the grim black majesty of Old Wainds, a convert to their Religion Of Spiritual Violence.
We love Old Wainds. So does Leviathan, Xasthur, Crebain, Draugar, Nachtmystium, and every other black metalhead we know. And as we mentioned before, there is really no better way to discover amazing bands than by discovering who your favorite bands' favorite bands are. Knowing that, Russia's Old Wainds are truly the black metal elite. Very few bands with such limited distribution, no official releases in the United States, and records that end up on eBay more than in shops have managed to make as huge an impression as these guys. And rightfully so. This is absolutely some of the most glorious buzzing blackness we have ever heard. And finally, we've managed to track down three of the four proper Old Wainds releases!! We got a whole bunch but we have a feeling they won't last long, and we're not sure how long it will take before we can get more (or even if we'll be able to at all). Before now we had been been on a never ending quest to track down every single recorded second of music these guys have spewed forth. So much so that one aQuarius employee who shall remain nameless (ahem...Andee) spent an embarassing sum on one of these discs on eBay!! But for now, you are spared that same fate. We have a bunch of copies of Old Wainds' second full length Where The Snows Are Never Gone, the split with fellow countrymen Nav, and this, their most recent release, Scalding Coldness! Which we also managed to get on vinyl!!!
So what is it about Old Wainds that has the grim hordes all in a tizzy? And why is Scalding Coldness one of the best black metal records of all time? Hard to explain exactly. If you were standing right here, we'd just play it for you. And it would only be a matter of seconds before you understood. And you can go ahead and listen to the sound samples, it should have the same effect, but we might as well try to put into words what it is that's so amazing about these guys and this disc.
With any metal, it's all about the riffs, black metal maybe moreso, because with black metal, it's pretty much entirely about the riff, no matter how buzzy the sound is, how evil and atmospheric the music is, without killer riffs you are NOTHING. Needless to say, Old Wainds whip up some of the catchiest buzziest riffs around. Swirling, snarling, dense and slightly off kilter, definitely in the great Norwegian tradition but with their own unique twist. Crunchy and insectoid, with strange little trills and unlikely chugs, haunting arpeggiated chords... The vocals too, guttural and growly, but not really shrieked or grunted, it's about as close to actual singing as black metal vocals can get. Still harsh and hateful, but more sort of gruff and raspy. And then the songs, epic and majestic, almost cinematic at points, but at the same time grim and frosty, buzzing dronescapes of bleak blackness, infused with a surprising amount of melody. And then there's the weird stuff, the chantlike vocals, the guitar leads that surface here and there, the strange pulsing ambient interludes, the weird breakdowns, ultra dramatic intros with bizarre drumming... but none of those things define the band, they are just part and parcel of Old Wainds' twisted black universe. The perfect blend of Xasthur, Immortal, Leviathan and Darkthrone. Sort of. Take your favorite bits from each of those bands and then smear in some desolate Russian winters, and twist it all up into some black shape that while sort of familiar is unlike anything you've ever heard before. And you'll be getting close.
Absolutely essential.
In the AQ black metal hall of the elite, atop a mountain wreathed in fire, beneath a sky as black as pitch sit the black metal elite, Satyricon, Emperor, Darkthrone, Burzum, Immortal and the rest, but it's looking like someone just might have to scoot over and make room for Old Wainds at the table...
Finally, full length number two (of three) from Russian black metal legends Old Wainds. We're still trying to restock their most recent, 2005's Scalding Coldness, but for now,�Where The Snows Are Never Gone is probably more grim frosty bleak blackness than you can handle. But that shouldn't deter you from trying.�
Originally recorded back in 1997 and released on cassette, reissued on cd in 2003, only finding its way to AQ in 2007,�Where The Snows Are Never Gone is another epic frostbitten slab of relentless black buzz. It's easy to hear why Old Wainds is the black metaller's black metal band. Wrest from Leviathan, Ancalagon from Crebain, Hildolf from Draugar, pretty much every BM misanthrope we know counts Old Wainds as one of, if not their absolute, favorite metal bands.�
Old Wainds are not damaged or demented, lo-fi or fucked, this is epic and majestic, the riffs are amazing, the drums a skull caving bombast, the production is massive, a swirling buzz that could swallow you whole. It's hard to know what else to say about these guys that we haven't already said over and over and over. To read more of our Old Wainds raving see any of the other OW reviews on the AQ site...
Needless to say, if you're already a fan and don't yet have this, BUY THIS NOW. If you've yet to discover the hellish joys of Old Wainds, this is as good a place to start as any, in fact it just may be our favorite of the bunch.�
More in line with the primitive thrashing buzz of bands like Darkthrone and Beherit, this is fast and blown out and black, relentless and furious, frosty and so so so grim. The vocals are a Popeye like croak (not all that far removed from Immortal's Abbath) and the tracks are peppered with strange explosions and sonic drop outs, the guitars go from lightning buzz to chugging crunch, the drums sounds like they're being fired out of a gun. Minus a couple intros, this record does not ever let up, even for one second. Until...
The final track, which is absolutely gorgeous, definitely the prettiest thing Old Wainds has ever recorded. An endlessly loping minor key midtempo groove, arpeggiated guitar, a sort of sea sick rhythm, motorik drumming, the guitar a warm glistening buzz, vocals a chanted moan, repetitive and so utterly dreamy (in a grim, cvlt, black way of course), until the very end where the song seems to buckle and the band stumble back into action obliterating any traces of loveliness in an explosion of brutal black fury.�
As with every single Old Wainds recording, totally essential.�
We once mentioned that the best way to discover the most amazing music in any genre, is to check out what other musicians are listening to. Never has that been more true than with black metal. A genre predicated on bands' underground status or level of grimness, how cult or frosty they are. Which means, some of the best bands aren't often heard outside of tiny circles, many times just other bands and close friends. Limited tape releases, cd-r's, demos. You have to be super tenacious to really be on top of the latest greatest grim horde from Bolivia or Paraguay who only have a single cassette release, and it was limited to 10 copies, each one doused in the band's blood.
Such is the case, although not quite so dramatically with Russia's Old Wainds. Ask any of the BM elite. Ask Wrest from Leviathan, Ancalagon the Black from Crebain, Hildolf from Draugar, Azentrius from Nachtmystium, and any one else you can pull from their blackened crypts, who their favorite black metal band is, and odds are all or most of them will tell you Old Wainds. And we might have to concur. The frustrating thing is most of the Old Wainds discs are only available on eBay at totally exorbitant prices. But you know what, it's completely worth it. Old Wainds play some of the most primal, furious, gloriously buzzy black metal we have ever heard. Although it might be better to start here, with this normally priced cd reissue of the bands Withers Of The Wainds demo.
Each track a blast of cold black winter winds, swirls of murky buzzing riffage, thrashing drums, and super insane vocals, that are strangely processed / affected so they sound like some strange death rattle, drenched in reverb, like the battle cry of some pterodactyl / rattlesnake hybrid. So completely alien and harshly harrowing. But perfect for the bleak buzzing blackened landscapes below. Killer riffs (you can pretty much boil ALL metal down to their main component, the riff), a murky production that swaths everything in a gauzy black veil, and those insane over the top vocals, all whipped into an impossibly furious black attack.
Absolutely and utterly essential black metal. We'll do our best to track down the rest of the Old Wainds discs that are available (not many? none?), and we'll wait patiently for the out of print ones to be reissued (or reissue them ourselves, if Andee can get in touch with the band), but for now, hails to Arma Diaboli for reissuing this disc and saving us all $50, and allowing us the opportunity to finally bask in the unearthly black glow of Old Wainds!!
FINNISH MUSIC FREEKS HEADS UP!!! A brand new release from a name you may not recognize, but you definitely know some of the bands he spent time in: Avarus, Anaksimandros, Maniac's Dream�
Fricara Pacchu may have a pretty illustrious Finnish underground musical resume, but weirdly enough, he began his musical career as a rapper, though you'd be hard pressed to tell from this, his debut solo 7".
And while you can definitely hear some of the above mentioned bands in these three songs, the sound is something else entirely, much more jangly and poppy, three little chunks of druggy, dreamy psychedelic confection. The opening track has a bit of a Krautrocky groove, some Eastern sounding sitar-like buzz, and swirling clouds of trippy FX, but they're wrapped around some sunshine-y jangle, it's like Avarus playing Olivia Tremor Control. The second track is more lo-fi and druggy, a gorgeously plodding tripped out drift of woozy piano, still MORE effects, spidery guitars, all coated in morning dew and dappled with sunlight.
The flipside is a bit less poppy, a sort of noisy soft industrial, lots of smeared grind and clank, but piled atop lovely melodies and hazy ambience, and distant moaning guitars, and with a strange staticky rhythm holding it all together. It definitely reminds us of our favorite Finnish free folk, but also like the Storm Bugs or some lost recording you might hear on one of those deluxe Vinyl On Demand reissues. A gorgeous slab of damaged experimental psychpop jangle, we can hardly wait for a full length.
The packaging is extra special. Included with the full color sleeve is a thick eye popping book of Pacchu's artwork, 7" x 4", stapled but on thick matte paper, drawings, collages, photos, squiggles, snakes, motorcycles, garish colors, intricate patterns, negative images and more. Folks who dug the Glomp books of Finnish art will definitely dig this too, and the images in the booklet seem like what you might see if you closed your eyes and played the record. The perfect visual analogue for Pacchu's druggy trippy soundworld.
Funnily enough, both Allan and Andee independently reviewed this, each unaware that the other was also writing a review. Whoops. The above is Andee's, below is Allan's for comparison (turns out their duplication of effort was remarkably similar, which is as it should be we suppose!):
First off, that cover art makes this pretty hard to resist. A simple painting of a weird-looking furry cat sitting next to a daisy... with the artist's incongruously black-metal suggestive logo floating overhead. That this 3 track, 11 minute 7" is from Finland, and on the ever-reliable Fonal label, is also a good thing. Fricara Pacchu being a member of such illustrious underground Finnish outfits as Anaksimandros, Avarus, and Maniacs Dream is further reason to be interested. But the proof's really in the pudding, or in our business, the music, so let's take a listen....
First track "Bianca's Beachparty" is an uptempo, uplifting utterly psychedelic instrumental home-recorded techno-disco number that immediately makes us think BOREDOMS. Crunchy, burbling synths zig and zag over a steady, insistent rhythm. Magic. We're sold. The other two tracks, "Upsidedown Wind" and "Text-Message From Beyond", are equally cool, woozy instrumental space-outs, not quite so "techno" tho. And what's also pretty cool is the 42-page, full-color booklet of Pacchu's cartoon/comic/collage art that comes with this 7"! Lots of insane eyeball-joy to be had here. If you liked those Glomp books we've listed, you'll dig this. This 7" package is presumably limited, we have just a few and may or may not be able to get more...
Markus Schmickler has enjoyed a long career of artistic reinventions, and his Pluramon project marks yet another with the highly acclaimed album Dreams Top Rock. Back in the early '90s, Schmickler began his musical career with a number of obscure electro-acoustic collaborations including Kontakta and Pol; but Schmickler's first major productions came with his first Pluramon record Pick Up Canyon, an album on which Schmickler worked with with Can's drummer extrordinaire Jaki Leibezeit. Outperforming much of the contemporary post-rock of the mid-90s (i.e. Tortoise, Stereolab, etc.), Pick Up Canyon brought an exceptional use of electronics to the always amazing clustered grooves of Leibezeit. Since then, Schmickler also released painterly electro-glitch collages as Wabi Sabi and an overlooked orchestral album that accurately reflected the ideas of such 20th Century avant-garde masters as Ligeti, Arvo Part, and Xenakis.
Schmickler's return to his Pluramon project finds him re-investing in the sublime beauty of shoegazer pop on Dreams Top Rock. As with Pick Up Canyon which hinged upon the percussive prowess of Jaki Leibezeit, Dreams Top Rock revolves around the ego of another. This time it's the David Lynch dream-girl Julee Cruise. Yes, there's plenty of My Bloody Valentine to go around; but to these ears, Dreams Top Rock is also a pastiche of A.R. Kane's very early singles dotted with melodies lifted from the Angelo Badalamenti songbook. Cruise's breathy vocalizations and hushed etherial whispers work incredibly well with Schmickler's adept reinterpretation of the shoegazer sound. Unlike Slowdive or My Bloody Valentine, Schmickler doesn't present himself as a brilliant songwriter. His songs are certainly better than most; but he tends to overwhelm the songs with his flawless production of that narcotized guitar sound.
Especially for anyone who bought the recent M83 record, Dreams Top Rock is an essential album. However, one non-music related complaint: Whose bright idea was it to put a sticker on the front of the digipak with the artist name and album title? I mean, sure, leave that info off the artwork, put a sticker on the cd case, or on the shrinkwrap. But if you decide to leave it off the artwork, then why would you put a sticker (that you can't peel off) directly on the cardboard of a digipack?! It makes no sense. GRRRR!!! ARGGHHH!!!
It seems a bit strange to spend very much time writing about the new Portishead. Since by now, odds are you're probably sick to death of hearing about it. Sure we all loved Portishead back in the day, they were one of those rare 'electronic' bands whose appeal knew no boundaries, metalheads, moms, indie kids, the sound of Portishead was dark and sexy and mysterious, sinister and ominous, dark and rife with crackle and buzz. Perfect drugged out late night bliss out music, their strange way of creating sound and composing music, recording their own samples on to vinyl and then spinning and scratching those samples to create new textures, made for a totally unique sound.
So what does a band do after taking almost a decade off? Do they return with a record that sounds just like the last one, which is probably what most folks want, or do they return radically altered? With a sound bold and brash, reinventing the sound they themselves invented in the first place.
On first listen, Third definitely sounds like the latter, but with repeated listening, the record slowly and subtly begins to slip toward the former. Which most definitely speaks to the magic of Portishead, and the new record, which at once embraces the old sound, while turning it into something new. More than past outings, Third is dirty, out of tune, atonal, noisy, chaotic, urgent, sure past records had all that crackle and buzz and fuzz, but those elements were carefully placed, and kept well within line. Third sounds much more, well, loose for lack of a better word, like actual musicians, feeling each other out, maybe even improvising. Less like a studio concoction and more like a real live band. And the sound suits them. And makes for a record at once warm and familiar, but also alien, sort of 'rocking' and rife with WTF? moments.
Take the opener, "Silence", which begins with some sort of radio broadcast, which gives way to a killer loping breakbeat, immediately the fastest tempo Portishead have ever explored, strings swoop in, the sound raw and urgent, almost like the chase scene from some spy movie, gorgeous distorted chiming guitar harmonics ring out, until finally the track slows down, and slithers sexily, the vocals a sexy sultry croon, but it's not long before the track kicks back into the haunting and tense, string laden cinematic jam that opened the track.
Then there's "Hunter", which begins like classic Portishead, all smokey and late night sounding, soft muted reverbed guitars, a lush gauzy production, the vocals ethereal and ghostly, but even here, a few seconds in, the song is interrupted by a super distorted crumbling guitar chord that halts things in their tracks, before fading out, and allowing the song to resume. The a few minutes later, a strange noodly synth freakoutsurfaces, again derailing the song's slow motion groove, but It just sounds perfect. It doesn't at all sound like random weirdness for random weirdness' sake. The first time is jarring, the second time, you find yourself waiting for those parts, even humming along as if they were as crucial to the song as the main melody or the vocals, and the thing is, they are.
Near the end lurks the single, "Machine Gun", with its very machine gun like rhythm, herky jerky, stuttery and not at all fluid, reminiscent of Art Of Noise, the vocals sweetly soaring over this jagged rhythmscape below, which only really varies part way through when the original machine gun drums are replaced by BIGGER, more distorted drums, and wrapped in strange moaning horns (or maybe synths), only to shift once again moments later becoming more electronic, the beats awash in strange FX and metallic buzz. It's so unlikely, that it makes perfect sense as the first single. If you can embrace that strange rhythm, that relentless and very un-Portishead like sound, then the rest of the record will make perfect sense, unfolding in front of you, revealing both the warm familiar sounds missed, and the new, bizarre sonic elements never even imagined
All over the record, the band confounds and confuses, gloriously, the brooding whispery "Small" shifts gears partway through and transforms into a fuzzy organ drenched krautjam, "Deep Water" is a straight up old timey folk song, the vocals and strings soaked in fuzzy ambience (and reminding us a bit of vocalist Gibbons' post Portishead project Rustin Man), "We Carry On" is a sort of atonal Stereolab style jam, relentless percussion, thick swaths of synth, very repetitive and hypnotic, "The Rip" is part whispery folky flutter, part synthy electro buzz, every track here offers some sort of surprise, whether it's the song itself, or some little sonic strangeness lurking within, but never is the song or the sound sacrificed, each track is perfect in its own beautifully twisted way, catchy but never obviously so, groovy, but often convoluted and fractured, it's a difficult record to explain for sure, which is perhaps why so much ink has been spilled, and while we may be sick of reading about it, we sure are finding it nearly impossible to imagine ever getting sick of listening to it, which is precisely why it's one of our Records Of The Week.
The recent vinyl reissue of this totally essential Terry Riley album has given us the opportunity to finally review a record that holds a special place in many of our hearts. A Rainbow In Curved Air is pretty much the ultimate in hypnotizing cosmic bliss out. Two long tracks in which Riley used electric organ, harpsichord, rockischord, dumbec, saxophone and tambourine, to create a sound in which his minimalist background served as a launching pad for him to really reach the outer limits of sound, a sound that is about as perfect as a soundtrack to sunrise we could ever imagine.
A Rainbow In Curved Sky was originally released in 1969, it was the first album Riley made for Columbia records and it's still so baffling and amazing to think there was a time when major labels would release such brilliant, noncommercial transcendent music like this. After doing some digging around we realized that one of the main reasons that Riley amazingly ended up on Columbia was because fellow electronic pioneer David Behrman had landed a job at the label, so he brought Riley into the land of Columbia and produced this amazing album.
Forty years after it's genesis, these are still sounds that make us stop in our tracks and suck us in, allowing us to get lost in the most amazing sonic daydreams one could imagine. A Rainbow In Curved Air has proven to be a model for several generations of cosmic music makers. It's safe to say that without this record there wouldn't be folks like Arp, Growing, Emeralds, White Rainbow, etc. Beyond recommended and totally essential!
Recent recording of Terry Riley's seminal work "In C." Because of its ambiguous instrumentation and relative ease of performance, "In C" has been performed and recorded in a multitude of varying arrangements in its 37 years of existence. In this version, "In C" is attacked with sitar, tabla, percusssion, voices (mostly extended technique, ie: growls) and orchestra. The performance was
The Terry Riley reissue campaign is in full effect and this week we were delighted to see his little heard seventies soundtracks, Les Yeux Fermes (Eyes Closed) from 1972 and Lifespan from 1974 arrive in our store (well, maybe Scott wasn't so delighted after shelling out $30 dollars for Lifespan on vinyl, just a couple of weeks ago). Le Yeux Fermes is comprised of two nearly twenty-minute pieces that are reminiscent of his early work on Reed Streams. The first is "Journey From A Death of a Friend" involving multiple organ and piano lines in counterpoint and the second is a more involved piece with delayed saxophone and organ counterpoints called "Happy Endings". The selections for Lifespan are six shorter pieces, which are a bit more diverse and melody oriented in their structures. "G Song" begins with an organ fugue repetition before the sax melody gives the piece more of a soundtrack theme, while "M.I.C.E.", short for Music In Curved Entrances, begins with a sustained organ and tabla drone before the melodic organ progressions kick into gear leading into the raga drones of "Slow Melody in Bhairavi" and the chanting Tangerine Dream-ish, "In The Summer". "The Oldtimer "is the most playful with an almost carnivalesque organ vamp, while "Delay" is just that, a slow burning organ drone with building and repeating organ lines that coalesce in a sea of pensive harmonics. We're surprised Riley hasn't done more soundtrack work. Listening to this makes us want to see the movies, especially Lifespan, which stars Klaus Kinski as a biochemist on a frantic search for the fountain of youth!
Elysium Fields has reissued this fine collection of Terry Riley pieces that was the kick off release of a fantastic string of reissues put out by the Cortical Foundation years ago. Here's what we said, way back when...
This release compiles four early tape-works from Terry Riley that are linked by their common usage of jazz passages, even as they deteriorate over the course of the disc. Beginning with "Music For The Gift" (1963), Riley works with Chet Baker who provides his signature downer jazz warbly horn and a painterly stand-up bass, which Riley in turn tosses into his tape-loop mechanisms for some pretty tremendous, hallucinatory drones and phasing patterns. Think of the manipulations of "You're No Good" but with jazz instead of R&B. "Birds Of Paradise" (1965) is a tape-manipulation piece which loops seemingly random tape segments of jazz horns (probably from those Baker sessions) with a phasing delay predating the work of Zoviet France. "The Mescalin Mix" is a murky Robert Ashley-esque collection of neurotic whispers. The finale of the disc is "Concert for Two Pianos and Five Tape Recorders" which could easily be a No-Neck Blues Band pipe fight with an odd play-by-play narration of the concert. Certainly the current crop of drone artists can learn a thing or twelve from this collection of seminal recordings by the West Coast master of minimalism.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
More black brutality from No Colours records in Germany. Home to Nargaroth, Graveland, Wigrid and Woodtemple, so you know this is gonna be good, what you might not expect is that Rimfrost's A Journey is basically a super technical slab of brutal black death metal. Super fast tight triggered drums, downtuned but super compressed riffing, growled blackened death metal vocals, the whole thing super polished and ultra tight. We usually expect No Colours stuff to be buzzy and blurry and home recorded, sometimes stumbling, often midtempo, super personal blackness, so this was a huge surprise, but not a bad surprise at all, cuz we love this stuff just as much. Think Khold, Thorns, newer Satyricon, that sort of clinical black metal, but filtered through some early nineties death metal. Fierce and heavy, with lots of half time chug, killer pick squeals, pounding near doom, and c'mon, they're called Rimfrost!
If you're like us, then anything even tangentially related to psychedelia, shoegaze, or post-rock is worth investigating. Well, Ms. Rose and Mr. Saloman (1/2 of the Yellow Swans) recently came through our doors to drop off a small batch -- really small, at 5 copies -- of their self-titled and self-released collaboration. Of course, as soon as they left, we put it on and totally geeked-out and got them to come back and bring us more. Recorded straight to tape and mastered to warm, lo-fi analog perfection, the disc is a wonderful synergy of the two members talents -- drone, melody and improvisation. But be forewarned, this is not NEARLY as noisy as either's other work. It's almost odd how melodic it is, really. Those that have heard the last few Yellow Swans records might not be too shocked though, since there has been an increasing number of melodic parts and much more structured arrangements. Is this getting too convoluted? Need some more specific reference points for the cd at hand? Think of something like Cloaks meets Ash Ra Tempel, a free and freaky compositional structure that gels more as a whole rather than than any one segment. The way melodies overlap and intertwine, changing each other's time and swirling all about reminds us of some tripped-out shoegaze band trying to go psych-drone. Really, really beautiful and blissed-out, and definitely recommended. LIMITED TO 50 and we've got 20, so you know what that means.
Having recently listed the highly popular Love Is Overtaking Me, we thought we'd bring in the other side of the Arthur Russell sound, World of Echo, a magical record he released towards the end of his life. We surprised ourselves realizing we never listed it previously, so it's time to do it some justice.
While Love Is Overtaking Me introduced a previously unheard side to Arthur Russell fans, it also brought in a new audience perhaps less in tune with Russell's more high-minded musical pursuits. World of Echo is a perfect in-between place for fans and new-comers. Released in 1987, World of Echo concentrates on Russell's use of the cello, percussion and voice filtered through a bank of effects. There is a minimalist oceanic dub vibe that weaves through these highly personal songs that are affecting, not so much by what he is singing but how. Soft and low, his voice quavers over spare echoing instrumentation that bends towards the beautifully abstract. Like floating in calm oceans towards the void of the sun, melting into its warmth, this is a record that influenced a generation of music makers (Grizzly Bear, Coconut, Final Fantasy, Juana Molina, Animal Collective / Panda Bear, Hanne Hukkelberg, etc) and continues to beguile us. Highly recommended!
For fans of the heavy, it has been a pretty good year! Cough, Thou, Trees, The Wounded Kings, Asva, et. al. And it just seems to keep getting better and better. Here's one of our latest slow, low, doooooomed-out faves, brought to us by the ever-reliable, ultra-heavy 20 Buck Spin label. Samothrace offer up 4 long tracks of mournful, slo-mo sludge on their debut full length Life's Trade. This not-so-merry band of black stone wielders hail from Lawrence, Kansas but recorded this in Chicago with producer Sanford Parker (Pelican, Buried At Sea, Indian, Minsk, Rwake, Nachtmystium... he knows his heaviness!). They're not the first band to employ emotive loud-soft dynamics, post-rock style, but they do it quite well, and it sounds fantastic, this whole album exuding utter dismal despair. And, hopefully, provoking some form of catharsis. Everything - the guttural vokills, the effects-blanketed guitars - are weary, weeping, wailing lamentations echoing across the Midwestern prairie, finding common cause with our favorite funereal doom from Finland, British doomdeath of the '90s like My Dying Bride, and fellow sludge lords like Atavist and Ocean. Not bad company to keep, if not clinically depressed.
Sometimes it seems that bands move too far away from metal and get into some kinda mediocre, boring post-rock middleground. Like -- fuck, dude, where's the metal? However, Samothrace manages to stay heavy even while incorporating other elements. The thing is, it's not metal with something else thrown in, they take other things and make them metal. At times it's quite pretty and melodic. It's like His Hero is Gone (Fifteen Counts of Arson era) mating with the gorgeous new works by Earth. There's many long, exquisite stretches of mellowed out beauty, calm and quiet, to lull the listener before being bulldozered by fat fuzzed riffage in a more metallic, stoner mode, which sometimes flows into some sweet, Iommi-envious soloing. Samothrace's loping lethargy and mopey melody is such that even at its most crushing, the band's music still seems suffused with the sunset's psychedelic twilight rays, or perhaps radiates its own comforting warmth, somehow. If that speaks to you, grab a copy, spark one, and turn it up. You'll want this one loud. Recommended.
