Search results for: chubby and the gang

Reviews – March 2022

Ancient Plastix Ancient Plastix LP (Maple Death)
Debut album here from Liverpool’s Ancient Plastix, a solo endeavor from one Paul Rafferty (previously of noise-punkers Bad Meds). Nothing particularly noisy or punk about Ancient Plastix, though – this is purely synthetic composition, ten melodically-centered pieces with soaring highs, robust bass tones and a vague sense of awe, like watching an IMAX movie about introspective cosmonauts or the life cycle of sea turtles. This isn’t a soundtrack though, it’s music meant for home listening, and while it’s perfectly fine by my ears, there’s a sort of anonymity, or perhaps genericness, that exists within these tracks. I’m reminded of Tangerine Dream, as well as the outputs of new-age-y electronics labels like Palace Of Lights and Music From Memory; it’s an easy classification for this sort of thing, but there’s nothing happening on Ancient Plastix that clashes with an easy and obvious filing. Nothing to complain about with this record, yet I kept wanting something to jump out at me, be it a glitch in the system or some impressively tender moment or perhaps something completely unexpected. For better or worse, Ancient Plastix is an adequate purveyor of mood-driven synth music.

Elle Barbara’s Black Space Délice Créole / Peach Purée 12″ (Celluloid Lunch)
The two schools of punk thought seem to be that either A: it’s only punk if you’re making punk music, or B: it’s only punk if you’re doing whatever you want. Celluloid Lunch seems to follow the second philosophy, releasing dyed-in-the-leather punk bands alongside oddball indie groups and eccentric pop music, and Elle Barbara’s Black Space fits the latter. Like the label, she’s also based in Montreal, and while a quick Googling reveals that there seems to be a swirl of artistic activity surrounding her, this is a fairly straightforward 12″ single of sensual pop and disco-ball-speckled house. “Délice Créole” is a shimmering spotlight on the dance-floor, a retro-throwback that recalls Eurovision‘s greatest Donna Summer and ABBA impersonators, and the GLOWZ rework transitions the party from patio to beach, an Ibizan gem that would’ve lit up even the dullest Sandals resort back in 1987. “Peach Purée” fires up the band for an even more extravagant and colorful affair, with funky bass guitar, seasick synths and the sense that, as a listener, I’m a part-time caterer serving hors d’oeuvres at a party hosted by Serge Gainsbourg, Carly Simon and Nile Rodgers. I could soak up that vibe for hours, but it’s only one song, and the d’Eon remix that follows is a choppy hip-house rendition that trades glamour for a more aggressive beat. Always nice to have friends involved, but the original mixes shine brightest here.

Behavior & Mayako XO Free World LP (Post Present Medium)
Behavior’s 2016 Iron Lung full-length really rubbed me the wrong way, to the point where I went back and re-read that review and wonder if I wasn’t a little unfair – they certainly weren’t the only band playing a repetitive and loose form of spindly post-punk at the time. This time around, they’ve teamed up with LA artist Mayako XO for a new collaboration, resulting in an album “rooted in improvisation” and sorted into songs after the initial sessions. While I’d love to love this record, and redeem my previous Behavior bashing, I am not particularly feeling this one either, sad to say. Rather than sounding post-punk or remotely noisy, this long record has a ’90s indie-rock sound played lugubriously and in defiance of pop hooks. When Mayako XO sings, I’m reminded of Cat Power’s most meandering ’90s moments, and when one of the Behavior guys sings, it often sounds like an aimless Pavement jam with someone doing an Elias Rønnenfelt impression (the delivery is all off-kilter moany croaking in that same distinctive style). Whereas Pavement and Cat Power buffered their floppy rock wanderings with unique, memorable lyrics and/or catchy melodies/hooks, Behavior and Mayako XO seem completely disinterested in making Free World something to remember. There’s a charm to this approach – see Tori Kudo’s vast body of work – but I’m struggling to find it here.

Stefan Christensen Ruby 2×7″ (Ever/Never)
Join me in celebrating the unfairly-maligned format of the double seven-inch! From Harry Pussy to Drunks With Guns to the goshdarn Inflatable Boy Clams, so many of my personal favorites have utilized this format to great ends, and now you can add experimental musician Stefan Christensen to the list. In a heartbreaking twist, Ruby is dedicated to and inspired by Christensen’s friend Rob Talbot who was murdered by cops while incarcerated in 2019. One might expect this release to be a sad and somber affair, but Christensen’s musical reaction to the situation is an entirely honest one, which is to say it’s frustrated, furious and stark. I can sense his disbelief in some of these tracks, the way that his cheap, fractured guitars strum against the odds and his vocals try to make sense of it all. Across these four short sides, guitar and voice are prominent, but there’s plenty of musical detritus to enhance the image, like the EP’s opening banjo plucks, low-lit radio interference and the air of the small rooms wherein these tracks were recorded. Christensen finds patience and resolve in these tiny, muffled songs, the Grouper-like “Goffe Porch” being the most tender of the bunch.

Dali Muru & The Polyphonic Swarm Dali Muru & The Polyphonic Swarm LP (Stroom)
It’s not cheap to fly a Stroom record over from Belgium and onto my front stoop, but I’ve yet to feel shorted in doing so. Case in point is this new one from the new-to-me Dali Muru & The Polyphonic Swarm (thankfully not the Spree), which sulks around through a maze of hallways connecting downtempo synth-wave, trip-hop and electro. Through these somewhat varied tracks, I’m picking up a variety of not-entirely-disparate sounds: the eerie post-industrial chill of Ectoplasm Girls, the peculiar vocal-house of Tom Of England, the super-slow techno grind of the Neubau label, the defiant trip-hop swagger of Leslie Winer and the left-field techno-funk of Tolouse Low Trax, who in fact lends his production to opening cut “Finest Escape” (which, ironically, doesn’t really sound anything like his other work). I just unknowingly crafted a fine playlist right there, and Dali Muru & The Polyphonic Swarm would fit in nicely, no matter if the vibe is dance-based or more of a seated chin-stroker’s delight. I like when the (severely relaxed) beats drop, which contrast nicely against some of the Midsommar-esque folk-horror conjured by other tracks. Worth every penny I spent on this record, all 3,552 of them!

Finale 255 O.P.M. 7″ (Slovenly)
There’s a hallowed punk tradition of bands who purposely find the most annoying singer possible to front their band. I fully support this, as a purposely disgraceful upending of what constitutes “musical talent” is a joy to behold, even if the singer really, truly annoys. Valencia’s Finale are a current-day example, as the band plays a tight and poppy form of classic clean-guitar punk, recorded stainlessly enough to give off a vibe more redolent of The Hives than The Coneheads. The singer is an absolute gobbler, as if he managed to avoid using his mouth entirely and decided to sing exclusively through his nose. Reminds me of a more polished (if less memorable) version of Australia’s first-wave post-punkers Tactics, a personal favorite. Your mileage here will certainly vary depending upon your tolerance (or appreciation) of high-pitched vocal squawk. I would probably love it in person, in some crusty Spanish bar with a shirtless ninety-pound singer dangling from the water pipes, but on record it’s a fun little jolt as well. Whether or not I could handle a full album of this voice is another story entirely.

Fine Place This New Heaven LP (Night School)
Fine Place is a new pairing between two New York artists (who Bandcamp Daily tells me are also a couple), Matthew Hord (of Pop. 1280 and Brandy) and Frankie Rose (surely you know Frankie Rose). While their other musical pursuits generally call to mind a grounded or even subterranean point of view, This New Heaven floats in the clouds, a seductive (if undeniably trendy) form of electronic dream-pop. Think of colored lights caught in smoke-machine haze, or Boy Harsher covering Cocteau Twins. These songs are slow and alluring, often reminding me of some of the more aspirationally pop works from the Tri Angle records camp, or the sort of thing I’d imagine to hear if I clicked on a link that read “Trent Reznor’s daughter releases debut single”. For as lo-fi-pop as Rose is known to be and as sardonically punk as Horn’s prior works are, I’m a little surprised by the downy softness of This New Heaven. Not in a bad way, because this style works best when it shares the qualities of a satin duvet… it’s just not what I would’ve necessarily expected. I enjoy having my expectations subverted, especially in the form of soothing electro-pop, and the album closing cover rendition of Adult Fantasies’ fantastic “The Party Is Over” hints at subversive sentiments to come.

Fix More Is More LP (Phantom)
Fix blew me away with their debut single a couple years ago – not from the music, but from the fact that they just called themselves “Fix”, blatantly swiping the name of one of the greatest American hardcore pioneers for their basement-y sounding weird-punk band. This time around, it appears Fix is an actual live band, and with that came a stylistic shift. Rather than blasting out some direct-to-laptop egg-punk full of neon farts and irritating-on-purpose motifs, they’ve transitioned to a sinewy hardcore-punk outfit, no contrivance needed. On More Is More, they come across like Germany’s answer to Hank Wood & The Hammerheads. The drumming has that same swing (and lots of cowbell!), and the vocalist delivers his shouts in short staccato bursts, much in the Hank Wood manner. Can’t say with certainty that Fix are intentionally aping Hank Wood this time around, but the similarities are certainly glaring, and Hank Wood are one of the most popular underground punk bands, or at least were a year or two ago, so it wouldn’t be a total shock. Thankfully, Fix do well with that same set of sonic characteristics, and the lack of singalong hooks might be more due to my lack of fluent German than their lack of catchiness. Now then, if some other band from Leipzig starts calling themselves The Necros and sounds eerily like Chubby & The Gang, my tolerance will truly be put to the test.

Gauze 言いたかねえけど目糞鼻糞 LP (XXX)
I believe it was conceptual artist Jenny Holzer who once said “loving Gauze comes as no surprise”, but this new album from perhaps the longest-running most-perfect hardcore band in the world really reiterates the admiration that I’m feeling. The CD came out last fall, but I held out for the vinyl (as I’m wont to do) by figuring out some sort of third-party Japanese shipping company, and am now sitting here basking in the glory of 言いたかねえけど目糞鼻糞. Even if they weren’t the greatest decades-long hardcore band in history, this new one would be a fascinating and distinctive selection of ten tracks at 45 RPM for a brand new group. Unlike 2007’s unrepentantly raw 貧乏ゆすりのリズムに乗って, this new album maintains a thick grit without sacrificing punch or clarity. This works well for these songs, which are constructed in an arch form of Gauze’s already idiosyncratic style. The blasts of speed are tempered with cascading stop-start breaks; so much space is given to the vocals and the drums, and it results in a fascinating and precise form of hardcore energy. It’s like they are playing with negative space and finding ways to charge it with all the bombast that comes with playing all the instruments at once, as most bands tend to do. It kills me that it’s always the hardcore bands that add violins or electronics or some other generic “experimental” trick that get lauded as “pushing hardcore to the next level”, when it’s never been more evident that Gauze are the true hardcore visionaries, at once elevating the style to a pure form of art without negating any of the aspects that are inherent and necessary to actual great hardcore music.

Heavenly Bodies Universal Resurrection LP (Petty Bunco)
For a while now, I’ve picked up that Petty Bunco (née Richie Records) might be a stoner-rock label for people who hate “stoner rock”. Rather than dabbling in images of bong-shaped spaceships and dude-bro rockerisms, the Petty Bunco posse keeps things modest and reality-based, more in line with Joe Carducci’s vision of the power of the electric guitar (from Hendrix to Saccharine Trust) than the cartoony craft beer stylings favored by the bands you know I’m talking about. This new one-song full-length from Philadelphia’s Heavenly Bodies squares nicely with my theory, a long, meandering live take recorded at Jerry’s On Front in the Kensington neighborhood of Philadelphia. Their resolve is impressive: cut into two sides, I’m fairly sure the drummer doesn’t kick in until a few minutes into the second side, but I like to imagine him sitting there on his stool for the whole thing, motionlessly vibing to the twinkling guitars of his bandmates. It’s a stoner groove that slowly diffuses into the room, reeking of weed but not self-conscious about it. The sparse notes chosen are familiar and fundamental – Universal Resurrection seems to be all about the journey, not the destination.

Kee Avil Crease LP (Constellation)
It’s interesting to follow the way in which weird artists choose to express their weirdness as the available technology changes. Now that everyone has access to software with a dizzying array of effects, additives and processing power, musicians who once were forced to express themselves through electric guitar or synthesizer alone are now able to bend the very fabric of sound to their wills. It’s also kinda funny when you consider that a lot of the modern avant-garde players end up making similar aesthetic choices, which I notice happening here on the debut full-length from Montreal’s Kee Avil. Her music is turbulent, uncomfortable and abstractly tuneful, with rustling noises utilized as percussion, clanging pianos, guitars that shimmer and squeak and ASMR-friendly vocals, showcasing every crackle and pop of her (frequently pitch-shifted) voice. Crease seems strongly indebted to contemporaries like Eartheater, Jenny Hval, Arca, Pan Daijing and Aïsha Devi, not in exact sonic correlation so much as the habitation of the same electro-feral digital mutant vibe (albeit here with a guitar-centric sound). Like those other artists, Kee Avil seems intent on both titillating and unsettling the listener, or perhaps forcing the listener to confuse those two sensations. It’s a fine artistic premise, but I can’t help but feel like I’ve witnessed it before, and quite recently, and from a good number of other artists – even the cover art bears striking resemblance to Nothing’s 2018 album Dance On The Blacktop or more recently, Debit’s The Long Count. While that may be my perspective, I’d rather live in a world where Kee Avil can sound like this than one where she can’t.

Levande Död Ingen Framtid LP (Happiest Place)
This Swedish group’s debut LP came through here a couple years ago and was entertaining in its various styles and approaches, an almost confusing mix at times. I think I’ve gotten to the bottom of it – Levande Död recorded their debut over many years and lineup/recording configurations, whereas Ingen Framtid is the work of a solid band created in a relatively short amount of time. This time around, they’re sounding like Chronophage if Thom Yorke accidentally joined the group… or kinda. These songs are still charmingly folksy and mildly countrified, played in a somewhat ramshackle DIY manner akin to Swell Maps or The Clean, but there’s also a unified style with a sense of larger musical aspirations. With the Happiest Place affiliation, one could assume these are some underground weirdos perfectly content to remain firmly underground, yet these songs would probably go over smashingly with fans of Arctic Monkeys and Shame and The Walkmen; this isn’t necessarily collegiate indie-rock with buttons firmly fastened, but it’s also not entirely not that, either. Rather than waste any more of my time trying to figure out who goes where, I’m going to sit back and enjoy Ingen Framtid some more, another curious and agreeable transmission from the enduring Swedish underground.

Jeff Mills & Rafael Leafar The Override Switch 2xLP (Axis)
Kind of a no-brainer here – living Detroit techno legend Jeff Mills going on a techno / future-jazz hybrid with multi-instrumentalist Rafael Leafar (also of Detroit). I’m not sure how this could possibly be bad, but after sitting with The Override Switch for a few weeks now, I’m willing to say it’s exceptional! Generally speaking, I love a repetitious minimal-techno groove with delayed horns wailing over top, and yet this feels like a special entry in the canon. Mills’ percussion is hypnotic and restrained; generally once he’s locked it in, the pulse and mix may change but the groove does not. With that as the base, Leafar takes continual flight, handling multiple flutes, clarinets, saxophones, oboes and even dabbling on synthesizers as well. Kaleidoscopic and sensual, it’s rich and nourishing music, far removed from the “space station in revolt” techno I generally associate with Mills, and closer to the contemporary “spiritual jazz” scenes that are receiving proper due here in the States and abroad. It feels good to be stuck here on this planet at the same time as the folks who decided to make The Override Switch.

Narrow Adventure 1981-83 LP (Spacecase)
Sure it’s only March but it’s already feeling like this might be the “previously unreleased archival find” of the year for me! Narrow Adventure was a short-lived group featuring Kjehl Johansen (of Urinals and 100 Flowers) and Kristi and Kelly Callan (of ’80s pop-rockers Wednesday Week), and when it comes to ultra-simple DIY power-pop, this is undeniably great. The front cover photo looks like it was plucked from the high school yearbook’s poetry club, and that sort of nice-kid energy is palpable throughout – they literally have a song called “I Hate Lying To Mom”, the yin to the yang of the Descendents’ early adolescent angst. 1981-83 feels like a cross between early ’80s teen-punk and the studious strum-pop of early Flying Nun, economical in nature and each instrument clearly pronounced, tuneful and raw. No wall of sound happening here, no effects, just simple understated guitar pop that sticks in your head after its gone, thanks to both the songs themselves and the forceful vocals of Kristi Callan. Most definitely for fans of Sweeping Promises, though I can’t imagine there’s anyone reading this who wouldn’t enjoy 1981-83 at least a little bit.

Pan•American The Patience Fader LP (Kranky)
It feels like the experimental underground is once again in step with Labradford guitarist Mark Nelson. His melodic ambient music under the Pan•American moniker has been ready for the IDM-adjacent, ECM lite-jazz-influenced trend we find ourselves in, and his newest one, The Patience Fader, is a lush and soothing experience no matter what the times are calling for. Whereas previous albums have eschewed traditional instrumentation, this one focuses on Nelson’s guitar, which unhurriedly drips out chords and progressions with the airiness of seltzer bubbles and the softness of velour. I’d draw comparisons to Mike Cooper, Bill Connors and the countrified era of Earth, as well as a dash of electronic artist Boothroyd’s Pure Country album, but there’s a tender sentimentality to these songs that outweighs any sense of “experimental” attitudes or genre allegiance. “Corniel”, for example, would be a tasty outlier on any given Pop Ambient compilation, but it fits in snugly here as well surrounded by so many guitar-led instrumentals. Music for weighted blankets, dust illuminated by sunbeams and patient afternoons, or as close to a simulation of those you can come by.

Popp Devi LP (Squama)
Almost missed this late 2021 album from German percussionist Simon Popp, but I’m glad to have caught it. Popp’s 2019 solo debut Laya received numerous spins around here, as he performs a style of music I’m happy to consume any time of day: electronics-enhanced percussive rinse cycles. Popp’s a member of the percussion-based 9ms group (who also released a great album last year on the Squama label), but somehow its his solo work that arrives with the most fascinating set of colors sparkling through. His drum patterns are lively and cyclical without feeling repetitive – fun and freaky yet fully locked in. For a percussion-based record, it never feels empty; Popp is clearly a musical academic and all of the various percussive instruments used, from trap kit to various acoustic wooden pieces, are perfectly tuned and resonate accordingly. I love a good wood-block workout with dubbed-out metallic pings reverberating throughout, and Popp brings it here in no short supply. Gonna have to keep a close eye on Squama from here on out, particularly as Martin Brugger’s late 2020 masterpiece Music For Video Stores entered my world alongside Devi and it’s been impossible to peel me out of my listening chair ever since.

Nate Scheible Fairfax LP (Warm Winters Ltd.)
Why aren’t there more gimmicks in drone music? I ask myself this question while heartily enjoying Nate Scheible’s Fairfax, which relies upon the gimmick of editing anonymous answering-machine tapes found in a Northern Virginia thrift store over soft electronic ambient. “Gimmick” might not be the perfect word, as it seems to carry a negative connotation as though there’s some sort of cheapness or manipulation at hand, but whatever you want to call it, Scheible’s intentions strike me as pure and the totality of Fairfax is solid and oddly moving. His windswept synth drones shimmer and wane, as inconspicuous as shadows and occasionally as potent as the glare of a sunrise, but it’s the unknown woman’s private soliloquies that steal the show. Her accent is distinctly American (if somewhat difficult for me to regionally place), and she speaks so personally and candidly to her “sweetheart” on the other end, working through their financial troubles, mood swings and, more than anything else, deep love and devotion. It takes a track or two to fully click (or at least it did for me), but Schieble’s ambient drones add a resonance to the woman’s words – ironically, it’s the addition of Scheible’s music that enables me to really listen to what she has to say.

Skiftande Enheter Öppna Landskap EP 7″ (Happiest Place)
Skiftande Enheter strike me as the punkest-sounding band in the Happiest Place scene, but don’t expect anything redolent of The Exploited or The Lewd. I’m speaking comparatively, as Skiftande Enheter pack a soft little open-handed smack, or perhaps a closed-fist clutching a fresh bouquet of roadside tulips. These songs utilize familiar sonic contributions – jangly guitars kissed with fuzz, warmly buzzing keyboards, vocals that rely on charisma over pitch – but they manage to behave differently than the multitudes of garage-rockers that have passed through my ears. The guitar chimes merrily, playing these peculiar and sprightly licks that I’d expect to hear from the amps of Chris Isaak, Purple Hearts or Francisco Franco, or perhaps on a Reds Pinks & Purples single, but instead of going full-on indie-pop or new-wave, Skiftande Enheter bring just enough backbone to the point where they could cover Ebba Grön or Kriminella Gitarrer without killing the mood. Mod and indie-pop and punk aren’t exactly fresh notions at this point, yet when Skiftande Enheter throws them together it sounds one step ahead.

Jimmy Smack Death Is Certain LP (Knekelhuis)
Okay, I realize that it was only a couple reviews ago that I had dubbed an album my archival find of the year (Narrow Adventure, if you somehow missed it), but it’s too close to call now that I’ve obtained a copy of Jimmy Smack’s Death Is Certain. I feel like a good portion of my nihilistic anti-social punk readership might’ve otherwise missed this one, released as it is by the venerable Knekelhuis label – they’re generally associated with forward-minded electronic dance music, even if often DIY in nature and closer to “uncategorizable” than “techno” or “house”. Anyway, Jimmy Smack came up in the very early ’80s death-rock scene, playing the same punk holes and police-pestered spaces as Black Flag and Circle Jerks, but his musical approach is different in sound if not entirely spirit. Using moody synths, bare-bones drum machines and a reverb pedal for his vocals, I am honestly shocked his music has remained undiscovered this long (he released only a couple impossibly-rare EPs in 1982 and 1983). Imagine if Bobby Soxx saw Throbbing Gristle in 1981 and decided to release the bats, or if Christian Death was a one-man primitive-synth project instead of a rock band. Some of the non-Western synth melodies remind of me something I’d expect to hear from Ghédalia Tazartès, yet at the same time I can absolutely picture members of Redd Kross and The Adolescents standing around kinda stunned, watching this freak in a jockstrap, boots and eyeliner dancing and eerily prophesizing over homemade beats. A crucial piece of Los Angeles’s early ’80s underground puzzle that I never knew was missing!

Theoreme Les Artisans LP (Maple Death)
When it comes to cool, disaffected post-punk synth, the French have a particular knack for it. This is no surprise, but a contemporary artist like Theoreme is a top-notch and alluring malcontent, following her great Bruit Direct album with Les Artisans. These songs are loose, dusty and aloof, less concerned with rigid melodies and personal anxiety than the moody intrigue that fills them… I’m reminded of the earliest works by Anika, Cabaret Voltaire and Annie Anxiety, with a dubby digi-murk that reminds me of something The Pop Group’s Mark Stewart would’ve left his thumbprints on back in 1983. Drum machines lightly propel, organs creak and moan as they’re forced to perform beyond their years, and Theoreme’s Maïssa D (it’s her solo project) off-handedly speaks her native French over top. It results in an appealing collection of wobbly and minimal grooves, often fading in and out without any progression, choruses or structural changes. Who needs it when you’re cool? This is music for smoking someone else’s cigarettes in the graffiti-riddled concrete stairwell of an unmarked underground dance club, no doubt.

Mark Wagner Son Rise / Son Of The Sun 12″ (Adaadat / Zamzamrec)
A funky backstory can enhance or overpower a work of art, but in the case of Mark Wagner’s Son Rise / Son Of the Sun I’m charmed to know how it came about. Wagner recorded the base tracks of piano and vocals back in 2015, and enhanced them with electronics around the dawn of 2021, right as he contracted a “deliriously ill” case of Covid (and a month before his child was born). Not an entirely unfamiliar story to most of us, but it helps explain the somewhat conflicting approaches at play here. These are indeed songs as opposed to “pieces”, which I’d file next to Shackleton’s occult British folk material, Current 93 and perhaps even Coil in the way that an ancient mysticism is fused with up-to-date electronic processing. It helps that Wagner is a finely talented singer, powerful enough to stand alone but even more powerful alongside his deeply resonating piano. Not entirely unlike Nick Cave’s recent music, if a little more esoteric. The instrumental passage that opens “Son Of The Sun” hits like John T. Gast’s Gossiwor project, spinning a thin thread to connect the pastoral British folk of Richard Skelton with the rain-soaked cyber-punk streets of Burial’s cinematic universe. Wagner succeeds in leaving me unsure if this record is meant to ward off wicked spirits or lure them in.

Watkins / Peacock Acid Escape Vol. 3 LP (FREAKS)
Zachary James Watkins of Black Spirituals posted up in a room with his pal Ross Peacock on what is apparently their third documented excursion together. Armed with analog synths, they just kinda let it rip – a beat sputters into place, melodies are repeated by hand and effects flutter both near and far. Reminds me a bit of Omar S in his “why don’t you go do something interesting with my records!” phase, when he was just pumping out loose and partly-unfinished beat tracks for other people to play with (“Psychotic Photosynthesis” a stellar example). For an improvisational synth record, it’s a lot more melody-centric than you might expect, as Watkins and Peacock clearly put the melodic hook front and center, less concerned with experimental effects or sound design. Works for me – “deconstructed” electronic music can get pretty wearying for my ears, even at its best, whereas I’m always game for a funky bass-line, a rotund kick and some snippy claps to round it out.

Rapsodie En France compilation LP (World Gone Mad / Crapoulet)
I’ve been listening to hardcore-punk for almost thirty years now and I love that there is still so much of it I’ve yet to hear. If the kids start reissuing more of these obscure early ’80s cassette compilations, it’s possible I will never go hungry for new-to-me first- and second-wave hardcore-punk, a thought that brings a tear to my eye. Rapsodie En France was originally such a tape, released by French label Jungle Hop International in 1985, and the eight groups here are all certified rippers, Euro-core that’s equal parts filthy, snarling, misbehaved and even downright anti-musical. I’m referring to Rapt with that last comment: their six tracks of flailing crust-core split the difference between Psycho Sin and Seven Minutes Of Nausea. You better believe I immediately scrambled online to determine whether or not they released anything else, adding their 1986 split 7″ with Final Blast (who also appear here) to my want-list without hesitation. The rest of the bands vary between tuneful-ish street-punk and snap-neck hardcore, packed to the brim with swear words, terrible guitar tones and the occasional audible burp. It’s cool that hardcore grew and evolved, that breakdowns and metallic riffing and sportswear integrated into the form, but I am particularly fond of records like this, filled with raw sounds comparable to Cheetah Chrome Motherfuckers, B.G.K., Raw Power, Bad Posture, Rebel Truth, D.R.I. and all that good stuff.

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Reviews – September 2021

Alpha Maid Chuckle 12″ (C.A.N.V.A.S.)
Read a couple intriguing profiles of London’s Alpha Maid over the past year, and decided to wait until vinyl surfaced to properly investigate. It’s finally here, and she’s pretty phenomenal! It’s not too often that music comes out of the gate sounding so unlike anything else, but Alpha Maid (the solo work of one Leisha Thomas) is cutting a hairy new path, and seems to do so naturally. A song like “Newly Woke & Thought Provoked”, for example, is a perfect fifty-fifty split of Frank Ocean and Jandek to my ears, the sort of eyebrow-raising comparison that Thomas manipulates with ease. Imagine Frank Ocean’s tender bedroom melodies and lyrics presented with Jandek’s supreme avant-awkwardness, and you’ve got weird guitar-pop that feels as though it were conceived in solitary confinement. Thomas takes these songs and wrings them out, layering lo-fi drums over hi-fi guitars, processed vocals and uncomfortable sounds to the point where it feels like Hyperdub artist Klein releasing a record on Kranky in 1999, or June Of 44 dropping a surprise album on PAN in 2021 (check “Mild Weather” to see what I mean). I’m probably getting a bit off course here, because for as fun as it is to contemplate the unorthodox combinations that Alpha Maid’s music inspires in my cute little brain, it’s even more fun to sit back and listen to Chuckle, which really couldn’t have come from anyone else.

CDG Unconditional 7″ (Domestic Departure)
At first glance I thought the band was calling themselves CDC, which would be kind of a funny throw-away provocative punk band name now that I think about it. But no, this Portland-based group is called CDG, and whatever that might mean (including perhaps nothing at all), they maneuver a form of classic groove-driven post-punk no-wave. I’m reminded of multiple generations of artists who’ve worked out this sound, from The Mekons to Emergency to Priests. The drums lock in an uncomfortable funk, the bass is applied accordingly, and the vocals and guitar scritch and scratch in various cool directions, abstract but never too noisy. Some bands sound like at least one member is wearing sunglasses, whereas CDG sound like at least one band member is wearing sunglasses upside down. It’s a stripped-down sound that never gets too fast or out of control and CDG make excellent use of it. My only gripe is that I wish it came with lyrics – I’m gathering the respective gists of “Remove Officer” and “Audiophile” from listening but I’d love to confirm the precise sharpness of the barbs CDG are dishing out.

Come AKA The Come Club 7″ (Chunklet Industries)
The cool thing about having an independent label is that you can literally do whatever you want with it. Sure, most labels generally follow some prescribed genre allegiance, either for the sake of avoiding financial ruin or because it’s simply what the people who run the label like. Chunklet, on the other hand, seems to take great pleasure in releasing fake records by real bands, real records by fake bands, joke records, lathe records, serious critically-lauded albums, ornate retrospectives… it’s like taking a tour of label owner Henry Owings’s mind, for better or worse, generally slanted toward the rougher side of ’90s indie-rock that was enjoyed by the twentysomethings of that era. This new single certainly fits that MO, two Gun Club covers performed by Come back in 1993, transferred from videotape to the record that spins here before me. So very niche, but for the select group of listeners who are devoted to that sliver of rock n’ roll history, they probably already picked up this 7″ on multiple colors of vinyl. “Preaching The Blues” and “Sex Beat” are raucous and loose, a treat for underground insiders and the random barflies who happened to be at TT The Bear’s on November 10th, 1993. And now us, too!

Computer American Digital Prayer 12″ (Skrot Up)
Bay Area miscreants Computer continue to shine a light upon the most shameful hunks of data lurking on our hard-drives with their newest album, American Digital Prayer. Coming from members of FNU Clone and Slicing Grandpa, it should come as no surprise that they’re dealing with a gross and murky form of digital noise and cultural detritus, this album featuring two side-long forays into such. They’ve got other bands if they want to write songs, so they go full-on extended collage here. The sound of bitcoins roasting on an open fire? By my estimation, I’m thinking of Glands Of External Secretion mixed for an American Tapes release as I listen, with cascades of synthetic tones and sampled snippets bubbling up amongst computer voices, clanging gears and terrible YouTube video wormholes. No one seems to get out alive from this one, which somehow reminds me that climate change is an irreversible nightmare even though nothing on this record speaks of any particular cause or sentiment. We all hate our computers and we’re all on them everyday anyway, a fact that Computer is all too happy to remind us.

Darkside Spiral 2xLP (Matador)
Not sure how to explain my fandom of Nicolas Jaar: enthusiastic but wary? There’s at least like three hours of music he’s made that I absolutely love, which is far more than I can say about 99% of the other artists who come through these pages, but I also find myself wondering how much of his allure is based on the cache of cool that buffers everything he’s done… is he really great at denying a beat-drop and patching together dusty piano loops, or is he simply great at presenting as though he’s great at it, chorus of critical acclaim by his side? I’ve been wondering that while listening to the new Darkside album, Spirals. I’ve really enjoyed Darkside’s records this far, but this new one feels like it relies on the established Darkside moves while kind of succumbing to that modern universal indie sound that I find insidious, music that at its base level is meant to be simultaneously ignored and streamed. The little guitar riffs here are more cool variations on Dire Straits and Pink Floyd for the Editions Mego generation, and the various production tricks and percussive elements are mighty nice, but I can’t shake the feeling that this kinda just sounds like The War On Drugs who sounds like Tame Impala who sounds like Toro Y Moi who sounds like Phoebe Bridgers and so forth. Probably a timeless complaint, but I think Nicolas Jaar and Darkside have plenty to offer conceptually and musically, so I want the very most out of them. Spiral sounds pretty sweet, but it’s a casual lap through the neutral zone, not an expedition into the unknown.

During Birds Of Juneau / Big Farmer 7″ (Chunklet Industries)
Intriguing slice of vinyl here, a 7″ with what appears to be an LP-sized center sticker and a substantial run-in (as opposed to run-out) groove. Turns out there’s a good reason for all that, as this is actually a hand-cut record limited to fifty copies! During are a new trio with members of Brandy, Spray Paint and Ballroom respectively, practically an Ever/Never SXSW showcase package, and if you liked any of the snotty post-punk and in-the-red rock those entities were dealing, you won’t have any problems enjoying During. “Birds Of Juneau” is dance-y and mean, somewhere between Wire, Clockcleaner and Electric Eels. “Big Farmer” is less friendly, with what sounds like an Australian vocal(?) that has me thinking of Lubricated Goat aiming for a record contract with 12XU. I realize that sort of description might only make sense to like fifty people here on Earth, but big deal, there are only fifty copies of this record so it works out perfectly!

Eyes And Flys Anxiety Tools / God’s Management 7″ (no label)
Eyes And Flys are a band, not a record label, but they should consider offering some business advice to all the labels out there struggling to get records pressed, seeing as they continue to release these 7″ singles with speed and quality. The Buffalo group has wavered between garage-rock, the lighter side of hardcore-punk and Flying Nun-inspired indie-pop on previous singles, and “Anxiety Tools” goes straight for the latter, a soft strummer that’s simultaneously uplifting and moody, from the chiming guitars and string accompaniment to the bitter, downward-facing vocal. “God’s Management” (is that a fancy phrase for “angels”?) kicks in with a soaring alt-rock instrumental groove, the sort of thing I’d expect to uncover when digging through bootleg outtakes from Pearl Jam’s Ten sessions (something I need to remind myself to do). Kind of a shame they couldn’t get Eddie Vedder to belt something out on this one, or at the very least, have one of the Eyes And Flys posse give it their best shot. It’s been an interesting band (and occasional solo project) from the start, but I think I like this single the most of all of them, what with the amiable strum of the a-side and the uplifting instrumental on the flip.

The Freakees Freakee Deakee 7″ (Tomothy)
You best be freaky if you’re showing up with this band name and record title, and I am happy to say that Los Angeles’s The Freakees come correct. They play a spastic but not gimmicky form of noisy punk, reminiscent of scrappy ’90s unknowns like Los Huevos, Yah Mos, Old Man Homo and The Mormons, the sort of sound I’d expect to hear on one of the great million-band comp LPs of the era like America In Decline or Wood Panel Pacer Wagon With Mags. (I highly recommend both, which you can pick up together on Discogs for less than ten bucks plus shipping, but I digress.) Three slippery directionless moshes on the a-side akin to FYP covering Red Cross, and one bleary come-down on the b-side, like Sonic Youth imitating the Germs for fun on Halloween or something. A cool punk single that defies contemporary trends, and also brings to mind the trite but sincere statement that it’s a good sounding record by a band who is probably even more fun to listen to live and in person.

Frigate Dreams Of The Deep LP (D.Q. Records T.U.)
Thinking this will be my favorite reissue of the year! Originally released in 1977 on the impossible-to-find tax-scam label C.C. Records, I’m thrilled to be hearing these demented psych-rock tunes now for the first time. No idea who Frigate were, or if that was even their real name (so deep does the intrigue run), but this is kind of the classic rock of my dreams, no pun intended. The album’s theme seems to be loosely based around seafaring heartbreak, which suits these loose and ketamined tunes. I’m picking up visions of Golden Earring falling asleep while attempting “Radar Love”, a classically-inclined Mountain Cult, Randy Holden playing every instrument with his feet, and Speed Glue & Shinki if Shinki quit the band and they ran out of speed. Truly warped music, the bass and drums barely, barely held together with a charming vocalist who sounds like he’s laying down with his eyes closed while delivering his lines. “There She Stands” almost predicts the unhinged hippie meanderings of Moss Icon? I love classic rock, but I love when music goes horribly wrong even more, and Dreams Of The Deep is a shockingly fantastic combination of the two.

Guardian Singles Guardian Singles LP (Trouble In Mind)
Here’s a good case for actually having friends: when I first got this Guardian Singles album, I threw it on once and kind of forgot about it, until a friend of mine who rarely checks into new music asked me if I heard the Guardian Singles album, much to my surprise. He was raving about it, and you know what, on repeated and focused listens, I can see the appeal! They’ve got a cool sound going, one that traverses rain-cloud power-pop, moody emo-rock and traditional punk-derived garage. Guardian Singles spin that all together nicely, not having a garage part or a power-pop part but rather fusing those elements together, so that it sounds like Tweed and Bureaucrats covering The Anniversary and Mineral while The Stranglers look on in approval. A song like “Roll Undead” even has enough of that darkly-chiming, rhythmically propulsive groove that I would expect to hear on the The Crow soundtrack, a high mark of ’90s culture. Even so, the whole thing still sounds punk, or at least punk-informed, which is probably inevitable considering Guardian Singles are from New Zealand, where indie-rock is their mainstream and no one has ever heard of Justin Beiber or Post Malone. Or so I like to believe.

I.G. Isolationsgemeinschaft LP (Phantom)
No, Instagram didn’t put out a vinyl album just yet, this I.G. stands for Isolationsgemeinschaft and this is their debut! They play a very German-sounding form of restless cold-wave, which is reasonable considering the duo’s Berlin residence. Synths and drum machines lead the path forward out of a neon-lit ’80s bunker into, well, a very similar-looking ’20s bunker. I’m reminded of Voice Farm, Vono, and that brief intersection where NDW bands revolving around the ZickZack label encountered the Sky Records synth scene that preceded it, a nice pairing of ’70s synth worship and ’80s post-punk paranoia. I.G. are certainly closer to the post-punk paranoia side of things, with many of these songs sounding as though they’re being tailed by a dark figure shrouded in a long trench coat, even if it turns out it’s only one of those Drab Majesty mimes looking to score party drugs. A genre exercise for sure, complete with some subtle Kraftwerk rips here and there (let the electronic group who has never ripped Kraftwerk cast the first stone), but it’s pleasant enough, or should I say unpleasant enough, that Isolationsgemeinschaft receives a synth-wave passing grade if not high honors.

Lysol Soup For My Family LP (Feel It)
Last I heard, Lysol had to change their name, but in that same way that I guess Tyvek had to change their name (where they went by “TYVK” for like one record and then just quietly went back to “Tyvek”), as the band is listed as “L.I.” on the cover. Is that how the law is written, you just can’t use it on your record cover? Anyway, this Seattle trio has been clouding up the basements of Olympia, Seattle and associated boroughs for a few years now, claiming a coveted Total Punk single along the way and not releasing much besides that in the past five years. Good thing that punk isn’t a race, then, as they’ve come around with their debut full-length here, Soup For My Family. It reveals the band as I knew them to be, leather-clad and raucous with the severe attitude of fellow Pac NWers like Gag and Electric Chair but choosing a looser, rawk-ier path. They’re a four-piece, so even though the singer can roll around on the floor all he wants, he prefers to hold things together, punctuating every line with a saucy “yeah!” or “woooow!” in the classic bad-news rock n’ roll tradition. Can’t tell from the lyrics if the song “Blessures Graves” is supposed to be a straight-up diss track against Blessure Grave, but considering the sassy attitude of this crew, I would be disappointed if it wasn’t.

Bill Nace One Note (Solo Guitar 2) LP (Open Mouth)
Last year’s solo album Both was a remarkable entry into Bill Nace’s already deep catalog, notable for its lack of collaborators and stark, hypnotic tone-burn. Now he’s turning the pages back to 2007, the time when he recorded this suite of tracks on his lonesome in Bennington, VT, surely within close proximity of a Ben & Jerry’s outlet. While his oeuvre has certainly grown in the thirteen years that have followed, it’s nice to get back to his formative days with this stately vinyl reissue of what was previously a 2008 cassette release. Reminiscent of many of the live performances I’ve witnessed, One Note has Nace lacerating his amplifier, with squalls of harsh noise more reminiscent of Macronympha than any improv guitarist, astringent frenzies of hiss and what sounds like metallic pebbles dropped into the bottom of a well. The noise scene was harsher and less nuanced back in 2007, and while I appreciate the wider variety of sounds that basically everyone is making these days, there’s something to be said for sheer sonic bludgeonry. Nace’s guitar is eruptive more often than not here, and if that Bennington cabin is still standing to this day, I’ll be impressed.

Onion Engine Bulbs 7″ (no label)
The first time Pete Warden released an Onion Engine 7″, I found it to be a beguiling curiosity worth holding onto, and as far as this new one is concerned, that sentiment has returned. Like the first, the songs on here are mild and woozy excursions, a musical sensation akin to finding out the steak you just ate was actually venison, not beef as ordered. Trumpet and simplistic drumming waltz out of the speakers, sounding as if Warden had some extra studio time at the end of one of his sessions as a part of Michael Beach’s band or with his other group Brain Drugs and decided to give the Onion Engine its due. Seems like something the Careful Catalog would like, presuming they aren’t afraid to get a little musical once in a while. Cool single, but the best part is certainly the lavish art prints that come inside: I count at least ten richly-detailed pencil drawings of bulbs from alternate realities, as if Nick Blinko completed a fine art degree while only listening to Wolves In The Throne Room or something. Tempted to hang all these up down my hallway, but I don’t want my house-guests to assume I’m rich.

Bill Orcutt A Mechanical Joey LP (Fake Estates)
National treasure Bill Orcutt has kept himself particularly busy over the last decade, and it’s been a joy to behold. His distinctive guitar playing continues to develop in inventive and strange ways, but we can’t forget that he knows his way around a mouse, too. Orcutt’s computer music first came into the world with Harry Pussy’s Let’s Build A Pussy, a split-second snippet of a scream stretched across four painful LP sides, and now he’s offering A Mechanical Joey, an equally ridiculous yet significantly more listenable (relatively speaking) full-length album. The concept here is thus: Joey Ramone counts out the numbers one through six and they’re relentlessly chopped up and spit out in rapid formation. Hypnotic and downright paralyzing, this sounds like Joey Ramone put through one of Evol’s sonic experiments, or the closest thing we’d ever get to Philip Glass working with The Ramones, or a more accurate piece of music for the title “Blitzkrieg Bop” than the actual song of that title. The patterns (and numbers) change throughout, even as the pace remains unbroken, resulting in a perfectly maddening piece of experimental computer music. It rules!

Kuzma Palkin Stadion Sever LP (ГОСТ ЗВУК)
The cover of Kuzma Palkin’s new album reminds me of the labeling of a dangerous new energy drink, which is a suitable analogy to his music. It’s energized and highly synthetic music with addictive properties, and as someone who has had nary a sip of Monster Energy in his life, I’m glad this Saint Petersburg-based producer is filling that void. His beats are rigid yet textural, snapping into place like a Transformer with what must be dozens of tiny parts flawlessly in place. Stadion Sever bears a similar sonic signature to works by Objekt and Upsammy, a fresh combination of neck-snapping electro (ala Dopplereffekt) and modern updates on the Rephlex aesthetic. Even at its most dizzying, I can bob my head to any track here and feel deeply connected to the groove no matter if my brain is only comprehending thirty to forty percent of it at any given time. Yet another reason for me to take a lengthy tour of Russia post-pandemic!

Pigeon Deny All Knowledge Of Complicity LP (Adaio830)
Loved that Ostseetraum LP that rolled through a couple months ago (Berlin group doing a punky minimal-synth thing for those who don’t instantly recall every band discussed here), and it turns out they share a member or three with Pigeon, a post-punk band who favor live rock instrumentation. This record sounds like a mix of where the indie-leaning post-punk underground is at today: Total Control, Wire, Iceage, Blitz’s Second Empire Justice and Moaning all enter my headspace as I spin Deny All Knowledge Of Complicity. Dark, brooding and slick-ish post-punk that aims to highlight the fact that we’re slowly becoming digital automatons through both the feel and rhythms of its sound. Not bad by any means, but certainly typical, perhaps extremely typical if I want to take a tough stance on this innocent band. This sound has been co-opted by a lot of bands with managers and agents and an eagerness to sell out in a scene that doesn’t even acknowledge sell-outs anymore, but to Pigeon’s credit, they seem to be not that. Either that or I’ve got a weak spot for any band that still puts a photocopied lyric booklet inside their LP.

Snooper Snõõper EP 7″ (Goodbye Boozy)
How do you like your egg (punk)? I realize it’s a dated term, but Snooper go hard on the egg sound here with these four cuts. The recording sounds physically sped up, which is a funny trick if true and an even funnier trick if they managed to simply play their instruments this speedily and high-pitched. The guitar is twangy and direct, the drums sound as though they were fashioned out of cardboard, and the vocals are spoken with the rapid-fire delivery of a little green martian asking the first human they see to take them to their leader. It’s got Coneheads written all over it, which at this point I’m ready to hear again, seeing as Coneheads stopped existing before Trump was even a viable presidential candidate. Snooper don’t take themselves too seriously, but they make good on this sound, un-serious as it may be. A suitable direction for the timeless Goodbye Boozy label, whose history of flaming dice “aWOOga!” punk rock is better left in the past.

Spllit Spllit Sides LP (Feel It)
If you can’t trust Feel It, who can you trust? I love the fact that I am familiar with barely a quarter of the bands they release, and find something to appreciate in all of them (some of whom I certainly appreciate a lot). I was excited to see that Spllit are from New Orleans, following my ongoing love affair with the last New Orleans punk record Feel It released, Waste Man’s masterful debut. To their credit (and as per my expectation, thanks to the wildly creative New Orleans punk scene), Spllit sound nothing like Waste Man. Rather, this feels more like a conceptual punk record, as much devoted to mood, attitude and recording trickery as to actually being a punk band. (This is predicated on the idea that they are in fact a punk band, which seems to be the case, but in this time of uncertainty, nothing is a guarantee.) Anyway, they’ve got a very quirky, semi-nerdy post-punk thing going on, full of dance rhythms, funky bass, weird sound effects and assured vocals. I’d compare it to the whole Kansas City / Ian Teeple / Uranium Club / Suburban Lawns strain of intellectual punk weirdness that’s taken off in the past couple years, and it’d be a reasonable comparison, but somehow Spllit seem less dorky about it. Maybe New Orleans simply has less room for dorks? Spllit still use altered high-pitch voices and xylophones in sparing ways, but the delivery and overall sentiment makes it clear: Spllit are doing a cool thing, not a nerd thing.

The Tubs Names 7″ (Trouble In Mind)
Might just be an exhausting time of year, slogging through the tail-end hottest days of the summer, so forgive my lack of immediate excitement over some new band with a “The (some basic item pluralized)” name, though I found the artwork (either inspired by, eerily similar to or actually created by James Vinciguerra) appealing on first glance. This was the perfect no-expectations setting for me to throw it on, as I can say with confidence that this is probably the best power-pop EP I’ve heard all year! Blew me away from the first note, a calmly confident spin on the sound of Protex, Purple Hearts and Jimmy Edwards, scruffy but firmly polished. Perhaps The Tubs are doing for first-wave UK jangle-pop what Chubby & The Gang seem to be doing with pub-rock and oi, which is to say cherry-picking the genre’s winning attributes and leaving the corny, dated aspects on the cutting room floor. As is often the case with this style, the vocals make it or break it, and whoever is singing here (no performance credits are listed) has a beautifully distinctive voice, masculine but delivered with a feminine flair on par with The Housemartins’ Paul Heaton. “Illusions” and “Names Song” are my favorites, more worthy of a hand-cranked mixtape than the inevitable Spotify playlists that will find them instead. Regardless of the media format, these are wonderful songs that everyone should hear.