Asylum Is This The Price? 7″ (Demo Tapes)
It amazes me that after what, a good thirty years of hardcore-punk enthusiasts digging up and reissuing obscurities, there are still shocking new finds to be made. I’m specifically blown away by the 7″ vinyl reissue of Is This The Price?, the sole release from Stoke-on-Trent’s Asylum which originally came on cassette in 1982. Sealed Records describes it as “the missing link between Discharge and Japanese noise-core”, and while I can certainly hear that, I’m also reminded of outsider American ‘core freaks like Psycho Sin, Maniax, Chemotherapy and Siege. Asylum really pushed the limits of “music” back in 1982 and I’m thrilled to hear it now; they blast through these six songs with pure abandon. Drums, bass, guitar and vocals are all there, but they seem to rarely link up in unison – rather, they play as fast and gnarly as they can, with a guitar tone so feebly blown-out that it recalls my sink’s garbage disposal more than anything attributable to Marshall or Fender. I truly love hardcore like this, the sort of blink-and-you’ll-miss band of miscreants I’d expect to see squeezed onto a Bullshit Detector comp or some eighty-band hand-copied cassette curated by the members of Lärm back in 1984. Brings a tear to my eye.

Bashford Greener Grasses LP (Big Neck)
For some reason, Bashford went with a fairly bland painting for the cover of their record, as opposed to the back cover photo of a hairy belly with the album title written on it. That’s just such a classic grunge move, the belly writing; it’s the sort of thing Tad and Mudhoney did to amuse themselves as rock critics watched on with baited breath in 1989. It’s fitting too, seeing as Bashford sound exactly like when you’re in fifth grade and you find out that some high schoolers cover Nirvana songs in their garage down the street and you finally dig up the courage to step onto their driveway. This is pure Sub Pop 200 music, right in line with The Fluid, Green River and the unfairly-decried Cat Butt. Somehow, it doesn’t seem to be a nostalgic homage so much as the group’s natural inclinations, which is cool with me, no matter how Cobain-esque singer-guitarist Luke Peltonen’s hoarse croak becomes. I dunno, while there’s absolutely nothing new or noteworthy happening here, it warms my heart to hear some new band worship early Nirvana like this way more than the latest deconstructed hyper-pop project or paint-by-numbers goth-wave group. There’s apparently more fifth-grader left in me than I realized.

Body Cam EP 7″ flexi (Violent Pest)
Nashville hardcore! You don’t hear those two words together too often, but I’m here for it, particularly as this debut one-sided flexi from Body Cam brings an appropriate level of scrawny fury. It’s rare that a “five songs in five minutes” record has ever let me down, and this square flexi is certainly no disappointment. Think of those earliest Gang Green tracks but messier – Body Cam pretty much never stop flailing throughout, with nary a mosh part in sight or even a valid reason to stage-dive. (Let’s face it: all the best stage-dives happen when they’re not supposed to, anyway.) There’s gotta be at least a few traditionalists out there who believe mosh parts ruined hardcore-punk, and while I’m not in that camp, I respect that opinion and am certain they’d approve of Body Cam. While much muddier and less distinctive than Tennessee’s greatest hardcore export, Koro, Body Cam are certainly in the same league, which is not a bad place to start.

K. Campbell Breaking Glass 7″ (Poison Moon)
Another lathe-cut 7″ single from K. Campbell, a guy who’s clearly figured out a fun and appealing way to share his hobby with a small slice of the world. This is his fourth single on Poison Moon, all of which have been limited to twenty-or-so copies a piece with attractively designed sleeves. As far as I’m concerned, Campbell has a free pass to do whatever he wants on these personal totems – beatboxing, ocean noise, whatever – but he sticks with a highly pleasant form of poppy indie-rock here. “Breaking Glass” sounds like The Get Up Kids without the voice cracks, delivered casually yet confidently with a catchy chorus. “More Than A Memory” is a little more hushed and twee, a definite b-side that feels like something Merge would’ve offered up in 1995. Heck, if Merge released this as a slimline CD EP back then it probably would’ve sold ten thousand copies and been considered a modest success, but now there are actually fewer copies of Breaking Glass than kids in a standardized kindergarten class. Weird how that works, but K. Campbell doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

Eric Chenaux Say Laura LP (Constellation)
I meant to check out Canadian avant-songwriter Eric Chenaux after reading his Wire cover story a couple years back, but sadly forgot. Now I’m spinning his first solo album in four years, Say Laura, and appreciating the cozy warmth it offers on this particularly lengthy cold-snap we’re having here in the American Northeast. If you’re not familiar, he’s kind of a post-jazz, post-electronica, post-rock sorta guy, playing music that touches on ideas shared by Tortoise, Animal Collective, The Sea & Cake and Sam Gendel (to name but a few), but is clearly on his own trip. It’s a trip I’d describe as master noodling, as each of these lengthy five tracks spends significant amounts of time wiggling in free-form melodic bliss. He’ll noodle on his guitar, he’ll noodle with electronics, he even finds a way to noodle with his singing voice (and a harmonica, too). But much as noodles themselves vary from sixty-cent microwavable styrofoam cups to Michelin-starred ramen, musical noodling can greatly vary in quality, and Chenaux is instantly recognizable as a phenom, finding endless new patterns for melodies to converge and separate and take the long road home. His voice, a gender-neutral purr somewhere between Chet Baker and Caribou’s Dan Snaith, is the perfect foil. He could probably nail coffeehouse-friendly lite-jazz if he wanted, but bizarre and fascinating moves are preferred throughout, the guitar of “Your New Rhythm” being purposely detuned in real-time but one of them.

Crispy Newspaper Ой Дуораан 12″ (World Gone Mad)
I love stories of punks in realms far from your typical American and European cities, of which Crispy Newspaper are a prime example: this group resides in Yaktusk, Siberia, which is apparently Asia’s northernmost and coldest city. They sing in Sakha, a distinct Turkic language, and someway somehow their 2020 cassette has now been given a gatefold 12″ vinyl release care of Philadelphia’s own World Gone Mad. Nice! I will admit my ignorance to the existence of Yaktusk, let alone their punk scene, but it warms my heart to know that its young people are playing in bands, railing against power structures and probably having a bit of fun, too. Musically, I’d describe this as aggressive and poppy, modern-sounding hardcore-punk that reminds me of bands like Pandemix, Limp Wrist and I dunno, Night Birds maybe? None of those are spot-on references, but swirl them around and Crispy Newspaper would fit right into the mix. Yet another testament to the enduring universality of punk rock.

Crucial Response Puppets 7″ (Not For The Weak)
I giggled for an unreasonable length of time at the fact that this Indonesian hardcore band decided to call themselves Crucial Response, the name used by perhaps the most European of European youth-crew hardcore record labels. I both love and hate the way hardcore endlessly recycles the same few phrases; I shouldn’t be surprised when sometime in the future a new band from Florida or Portugal or Norway decides to call themselves Revelation or Judge or something, but I know I will be. Anyway, Crucial Response play some thick-necked hardcore, urgent and with a heavy metallic edge that all the kids at these mosh-em-up destination hardcore fests seem to enjoy. At points, I’m reminded of Wasted Time and Negative Approach’s Tied Down, though Puppets is a little more generic, for better or worse. Bruising hardcore with pictures of skull-spider spiked-chain weaponry (as rendered on the cover here) never goes out of style I suppose, no matter how many times it’s duplicated.

The Dead Space Chlorine Sleep LP (12XU)
No, The Dead Space isn’t a new social media platform for Jerry Garcia fans – okay, maybe it should be, but it’s also the name of this artsy post-punk trio out of Austin, TX. They’ve been around a few years, but Chlorine Sleep is my first exposure to the group, and the 12XU stamp of approval certainly makes sense upon listening. They’ve got a melodic-yet-discordant thing going on, sounding like a mix between the post-screamo noise-rock of Metz and the moody post-emo rock of Preoccupations, who coincidentally just co-headlined a tour together. The bass is heavy and tuneful, the drums deliver dramatic tom-based patterns, and the vocals are spoken-sung in a similar-yet-brighter register as (the rightfully-disgraced) Daughters. Songs might zigzag around like Wire’s least conventional tracks, but they fit in snugly with the other contemporary pro-‘tude noise-rockers I’ve already mentioned in this review – The Dead Space might gel best with folks who love At The Drive-In, not Unholy Swill. That bodes well for The Dead Space, then, seeing as there are roughly ten thousand At The Drive-In fans for every person willing to even acknowledge the existence of Unholy Swill.

Deaf Club Productive Disruption LP (Three One G / Sweatband)
It often seems like a safe bet that any given ’70s/’80s/’90s punk icon will eventually completely humiliate themselves via their own cluelessness or get rightfully cancelled by those they’ve hurt over the years, but I’m happy that Justin Pearson (of Swing Kids, Crimson Curse and most notably, The Locust) is a strong counter-example. Rather than resting on his glory days, being outed for abuse, or espousing some “edgy” form of conservative views, he’s as DIY and punk as ever, still putting out his own records and kicking against the pricks. One of his current bands is Deaf Club, and Productive Disruption is my first experience hearing the group. It’s pretty cool! This is very much in line with The Locust’s relentless and abruptly-changing grind; with a dearth of synths, I’d say I’m reminded most of early Dillinger Escape Plan in the way that mathematical time signatures are utilized for hardcore-grind blasting. Pearson yowls in a fairly continuous tone throughout, much in the same way he’s been doing in various bands for the past three decades, and with this extremely tight and well-rehearsed outfit, it sounds great. Kinda funny that they have a song called “Public Acid” – it can’t be a tribute to the band of the same name, can it? – but that just leaves the door open for Public Acid to write a song called “Deaf Club” whenever they’re feeling up for it. After all, true hardcore-punk isn’t a diatribe, it’s a conversation (or argument).

Eyes And Flys Asbestos Fiber In A Sunbeam / Sad Labor 7″ (no label)
On their sixth self-released seven-inch in three years, upstate New York’s Eyes And Flys are in full-band mode here, pumping out two songs about their working-class perspective. Bandleader Patrick Shanahan even includes copies of his OSHA and asbestos ID cards in the insert, confirming that this is the work or someone down in the trenches (apparently literally), not a rich-kid fantasy written from the perspective of the proletariat. “Asbestos Fiber In A Sunbeam” is the rightful a-side, a groovy garage-punk slam that pairs the vocal stylings of Mayyors with a rousing, guitar-driven sound that’s as Mummies-esque as it is Dillinger Four. “Sad Labor” is a little restrained, though the sentiment remains the same. The chorus repeats the lines “this is your roll (sic) / get in the hole”, which reads like it should be a Swans song, but it actually sounds more like a brief agitated moment located within Spray Paint’s back catalog alongside some lonesome guitar crumbs. Already setting my clock for Eyes And Flys seventh self-released seven-inch, probably due any day now.

Eyes Of The Amaryllis Sift LP (Horn Of Plenty)
Glad to be hipped to this new project from a few of Philadelphia’s post-noise-diaspora players – I’m talking about Jesse Dewlow (aka People Skills) and Jim Strong of Melkings alongside Esther Scanlund and Goda Trakumaite. They’ve put together an oddly compelling vinyl debut in Sift, which I’d liken closest to an American take on the communal domestic clamor of Enhet För Fri Musik, with a touch of the DIY swirl found within the deep discography of Ashtray Navigations. It’s also not far from the patient, brooding melancholy of a People Skills record, and there’s just enough “random objects being shuffled around” sounds on here to make the Melkings connection. Guitar is prominent too, and rather than being played in a discordant Sonic Youth-y style (as is the general tradition of noise-based improv bands), wistful melodies unfurl over many of these tracks. If you tried to imagine the Kye Records equivalent of “indie rock”, Sift might be within that orbit, though the Kye side of the equation is certainly weighted heavier here (much to my delight). As preciously odd as any given New Zealand avant-DIY lathe cut, but mass-produced on pristine black vinyl care of London’s Horn Of Plenty.

Gentleman Jesse Lose Everything LP (Beach Impediment)
Sad to say, the times seem to have gotten to the normally-precocious Gentleman Jesse – rather than posing for the cover with his guitar or alongside friends in snappy shirts and poses, Lose Everything features a black and white photo of some unremarkable underpass, the sort of place that has a “no dumping” sign where everyone illegally dumps anyway. And the album title doesn’t provide much hope either! Rest assured, this newfound moroseness doesn’t extend to the music of Lose Everything, though I wouldn’t necessarily call this “happy” music either… it’s sharp power-pop rock that is reasonably cautious about the future and wary of good news, which certainly makes sense given the era in which it was written and recorded. If anything, I find myself reminded quite a bit of Ted Leo here, in the way that Gentleman Jesse attacks his American guitar-pop with sincerity and energy, a firm believer in his own music (and rightly so). Kind of strange that such a nuanced, emotionally-mature album comes to us from Beach Impediment, a label I associate with muscular skulls punching through brick walls, though stranger combinations have certainly happened. Gentleman Jesse prefers to channel his discontent and malaise through chiming guitars and charming melodies (though a single ignorant mosh breakdown wouldn’t have killed him).

Geo Rip Geo Rip 12″ (The Trilogy Tapes)
It always felt like DC’s Protect-U received less admiration and praise than they deserved, but no one said making introspective experimental techno was a quick trip to fame and fortune. As Geo Rip (the pairing of Protect-U’s Mike Petillo and Aaron Leitko with Dope Body’s John Jones), they’re poised to turn at least a few new heads care of the reputation of the tastemaking Trilogy Tapes label, and rightfully so. They’ve always been on this path, an inquisitive, wonky-rhythmed adventure into the most tweaked sounds one could reasonably call electronic dance music, and on this vinyl debut Geo Rip display the fruits of their labor. I want to say “Drop-In Center” sounds like a badly heat-warped Vakula record, but that betrays the time and precision that Geo Rip clearly put into crafting it, which is evident even at its loosest moments. “Nah Press Fake Text” unexpectedly raises the BPM, ping-ponging across the sound-field with dazzling color… much like b-side opener “Tooni”, these tracks sound like the tropical bird room at the zoo both literally and figuratively. They wrap with “Underwater Bodycam”, which points towards a future in which Fennesz, The Field, Oneohtrix Point Never and the Hessle Audio roster are spotted running down a grassy hill together, arms entwined. The vaguely-anthropomorphic brain-teaser toy on the cover is a perfect match for the sounds within, as quizzical as it is simple fun.

Anne Gillis <<...>> LP (Art Into Life)
The Art Into Life label is full of understated, glorious surprises, and this new album from abstract-electronics lifer Anne Gillis fits right into that category. She’s been releasing odd, unassuming noise records since the early ’80s, and apparently sneaked in a trip to Japan in 2020 to play a live show in celebration of her retrospective box-set release, which is documented here. The quality here is great, and with a total lack of human interaction or crowd noise, it feels like a proper full-length. The label promo says that the works here are constructed from “primitive hiss noise and error sounds”, and well, I couldn’t have summed it up better myself. Low-level industrial thrum meets malfunctioning electronics in deeply hypnotic ways, not at all harsh but oddly soothing, at least if you’re the type of person who’s ever stopped what you were doing to listen to the air conditioner. Occasionally Gillis’s voice appears, but she sounds more like a rudimentary theremin than a human exercising their vocal cords. In a way, I’m reminded of Phew, but even Phew sounds downright poppy with her Suicide-styled synth patterns compared to the desolate and ruined soundscapes offered by Gillis here. The sole exception to the rule is “Appel À La Base”, which actually has some sort of cold-wave sway and a drum machine beat, draped in static though it may be. Impeccable album!

Good Looking Son Fantasy Weekend 12″ (Feel It)
Apparently unsatisfied with merely The Cowboys as a vessel for his songs, guitarist/singer/songwriter Keith Harman started Good Looking Son, another band based around his glammy power-pop dreams. This six-song EP features more of his American power-pop stylings; upbeat, courteous and slightly silly tunes that always go down smooth. Though hailing from Cincinnati circa now, these songs give me an upstate New Jersey vibe circa 1980, like that of a weekly-gigging bar-band whose songwriting aspirations exceed that of the Cheap Trick and Tommy Tutone songs they’re forced to cover. At least two different bands named The Boyfriends fit this description, and they remind me of Good Looking Son, though there’s a bit of a platform-shoe glitz to these songs as well, perhaps the remnants of a T. Rex love affair. Not sure if Feel It is interested in becoming the BOMP! Records of today, but records like this might earn them that distinction.

IbonRG & Enrike Hurtado oMOrruMU baMAt LP (Repetidor)
Chances are, you don’t know nothing about nothing when it comes to IbonRG and Enrike Hurtado, and let me tell you friend, I’m right there with you! This collaborative LP is my first experience with these two Basque artists, while I’ve yet to uncover a better section to file this than “experimental”, these two clearly have their own specific intents. It’s a duo (IbonRG is just one guy, if that wasn’t evident), but they seem to take turns throughout, with one of them playing piano or txalaparta (an “ancient Basque wooden instrument” used percussively) while the other sits it out, or perhaps augments the sound with electronic software manipulation. Mostly though oMOrruMU baMAt sounds like a seated theater performance, with lengthy vocal ballads sung with or without musical accompaniment (and if so, usually piano). The lyrics are taken from poetry by the artist/poet Joxan Artze, and while my understanding of the Basque language is non-existent, IbonRG and Hurtado have no trouble communicating beyond language, with songs that conjure an ancient mournfulness or an elusive beauty. It comes with a thick booklet that pairs abstract paintings/scribbles with each track, as if the artfulness wasn’t already seeping out of the album’s every pore.

Klon Dump KLON001 12″ (Klon Dump)
Sometimes you’re scrolling through the bins, be they in a record shop or digital, and a name just grabs you. Such is the case for me and Klon Dump, a name that immediately calls to mind Nico talking about a clown that pooped. That’s all it took! That and the kind of funny center sticker pic of some guy, presumably not Klon Dump himself, though I’d be happy if it was. Anyway, it was a serendipitous moment, as these two songs are pretty dope… smartly funky minimal techno outta Berlin. “Verklärte Dumpster” is kind of a glitchy, analog-sounding take on my favorite Perlon records. Snappy drums pair with an amusing vocal sample in a very Melchior Productions sorta way, the sorta combo that can fail as easily as it can succeed, but it’s a home run here. “Klon Mundo – Klon Domo” is the flip and it raises the energy level, a pile of twitching wires that eventually recall a particularly frantic round of Super Mario Kart. Very fun techno stuff, though it’s “Verklärte Dumpster” that demands the repeated playback for me. Say it with me: Klon Dump!

Man Eaters Twelve More Observations On Healthy Living LP (Feel It)
So often, I feel like Chicago hardcore-punk aims for a humble, gritty realness, whereas their natives Man Eaters are completely outsized and wild. From their art to their sound to their physical appearance (four out of four longhairs, three out of four mustaches, one out of four cyberpunk Al Jourgensen-style sunglasses), they go big, and that bigness is expressed with gusto on their sophomore full-length, Twelve More Observations On Healthy Living. I hope to see this band live someday, if only to verify that they’re as larger than life in person as they are on record. Much of Twelve More reminds me of Motörhead if they weren’t a band but rather a Robert Crumb comic book that got banned from most high schools. Drugs are rampant, denim is stained and the party never ends, no matter who’s still awake. The mix of bad-ass rock n’ roll and hardcore-punk that Annihilation Time promised is operating at full capacity here, and I’d say improved upon. Much like Toronto hardcore band Omegas exploded classic NYHC iconography to their own cartoonish ends, Man Eaters have taken their cues from late ’80s Poison Idea and dialed everything up to eleven.

Nameless Creations Pain-Powered Machine 7″ (Kill Your Parents)
Polish goth-rockers Nameless Creations follow their 2019 album with this new single, and with its cover drawing of a 1920s flapper with a naked devil-man on a leash, how could I not give it a try? I remember their album as sounding kinda raw, pained and morbid – to be honest, I haven’t spun it since writing the review back in the sweetly naive winter of 2019 – but “Pain-Powered Machine” comes bursting through the door. They probably sound more like The Hives than they realize here, albeit somewhat neutralized by the piano-led swagger I’d associate with Pleasure Forever. It’s not overly arena-sized, but I still can’t imagine that many obsessive fans of My Chemical Romance and AFI would snub their noses at it. “Things That Serve” allows the half-drunk bluster of the a-side to fully take over, swaying like a small boat in the wake of a larger one, which is emphasized by the brief violin solo. Vocalist Dorian Wiseblood quickly interrupts it with his tirade against (or for?) love, sounding as if World Inferno Friendship Society were booked for a controversial funeral. If your name is “Dorian Wiseblood”, you damn sure better be playing music in a band like this!

Nein Rodere Catch Up With What Party LP (Horn Of Plenty)
Berlin-based musician and artist David Roeder takes the step from tape to wax with Catch Up With What Party, his vinyl debut which compiles, re-works and adds onto material from two recent cassette releases. He operates in the “lonesome shadowy man with access to a few basic instruments and a tape recorder” vein, offering no fewer than twenty-three tracks on here. You’d think there might be some beam of light or human connection to be extended on such a lengthy outing, but these vignettes are pretty opaque, music that seems to be hiding from the listener as well as itself. A guitar strums aimlessly in a cul-de-sac, a pump organ hums in the corner of some Twin Peaks bedroom, vocals are intoned so ominously low that making out the words is near impossible… scrutiny is futile. The record often feels like a crime-noir without a plot; conflict and action are replaced with empty courtyards and vague muttering, excused as art for art’s sake. On one hand, I’m inclined to think that Catch Up With What Party could’ve benefited from some editing, but on the other, part of the point seems to be its large spread of musical mundanities, a sonic map smudged beyond recognition.

Reckoning Force Broken State LP (Not For The Weak)
Let’s see, a map of the US rendered in brittle soil and filled human silhouettes trapped in gears while old-timey plutocrats look on with murderous lust and big bags with dollar signs on them… precisely what I want to see on a hardcore album cover! Reckoning Force understands America’s failure, which, let’s be honest, is only missed by the willfully ignorant at this point, but they answer the call with a 45 RPM album of raging American hardcore. Hailing from Virginia Beach, Reckoning Force must be used to the endless fighter jets pointlessly patrolling over head (and costing us millions of dollars in the process), so they slam through these ten tracks in a punchy, not-too-raw style that will surely appeal to both hardcore kids and hardcore punks alike (you know the distinction). Reminds me of Virginia locals like Wasted Time and Government Warning alongside a clear working knowledge of the X-Claim! catalog, and probably a familiarity with some of the harder-edged youth-crew that Youngblood Records has produced through the years. Nothing game changing, or even particularly distinctive, but as a form of art and social protest, good hardcore-punk need not reinvent the wheel, it simply needs to slap spikes on that wheel and roll it full-speed into the police station and the politician’s mansion. Broken State does just that.

Adam Roth & His Band Of Men Down The Shore Original Motion Picture Soundtrack LP (HoZac)
At this point, I don’t begrudge anyone for curling up in a protective zone of nostalgia as a means of making it through the day. Things really stink these days, so if you wanna try to beat Metroid again or binge-watch Fred Savage’s movies from the ’80s and ’90s, I certainly won’t try to stop you! This reissue from Adam Roth & His Band Of Men is pure rock nostalgia, even if you haven’t heard it before, which I presume is the case for the vast majority of those reading this. I love me some first-wave power-pop but hadn’t heard of this album before, and it’s a very fun and teenaged romp, the sort of thing I’d expect to hear blasting during a scene where the cool-but-outcast main character walks into high school on the first day, avoiding stoners on skateboards and jocks playing catch. Very High School USA… as “Judy Won’t You Dance With Me?” hits, I’m picturing Michael J. Fox and Dana Plato dancing in the cafeteria while Todd Bridges looks on in admiration. One buddy of mine is obsessed with those movies, from Jocks to Prayer Of The Rollerboys, and I’m gonna give him my copy of this record. The only thing better than keeping a record you like is giving it to someone who’ll love it.

Total Hell Total Hell 12″ (Goner)
Who among us hasn’t fantasized about playing in an evil metal band? Directly lifting the visual and sonic aesthetics of Venom and Celtic Frost, wearing spiked gauntlets and black eye makeup and doing your best “invisible oranges” pose in the local graveyard. It’s an incredibly alluring proposition, but most of us tend to leave it at the fantasy stage, whereas the men of Total Hell acted on these morbid desires and started this band. Composed of DD Owen and members of garage-punk bands Trampoline Team and Buck Biloxi & The Fucks, these guys put on their heavy metal costumes and give it a go, to results both undeniable and unremarkable. I’m not saying you can’t play snotty pop-punk one day and evil blackened metal the next, but if you’re the type of listener who adamantly demands authentic heavy metal destruction, you might be able to sniff out the weekend warriors from the lifers. Regardless of your particular stance, Total Hell are all-in with this debut 12″, complete with fantasy lyrics, Satanic voice-overs and the whinnying of a black-winged stallion (check the intro to “Disfigured”). Venom worship brought to you by Goner Records in precisely the way you might imagine Goner Records would bring you Venom worship.

Wake Up Tigers Can’t Be Choosers LP (Paul Is Dead)
It’s funny how many aggressive noise-rock bands pride themselves on being a “downer”, thinking that their big ugly noisy riffs will stir up a negative mood for anyone in their vicinity, whereas it’s actually this upbeat indie-rock album from LA’s Wake Up that’s got me more sullen than the gnarliest Drunks With Guns clone. It’s because Tigers Can’t Be Choosers is dedicated to the memory of Carlo Gonzalez, the drummer of Wake Up at the time of this recording, as well as the memory of Thomas John Fekete, who sings and plays guitar on a digital-only bonus track. I don’t know if my peer group has simply gotten old and it’s always been like this for adults beyond their twenties, but it feels more and more commonplace to have our friends die in very recent times, and it takes me a moment to shake that thought once it’s entered my head. Sorry if I just did that to you now, too. Anyway, for an emo-adjacent indie-rock group, Wake Up don’t sound remotely morose here, preferring instead to weave their way through songs that are equal parts Promise Ring, Pavement and the basements where fans of those two bands congregate. Fun is clearly being had, and seeing as Wake Up recorded it back in 2013 before going on a tour with Surfer Blood (and seemingly self-released it on their own “Paul Is Dead Records” label – sheesh), I’m glad they go to share that exciting moment in their lives and capture the lazy happy songs that went along with it.

Chris Abrahams, Clayton Thomas, Miles Thomas Words Fail 2xLP (Hospital Hill)
Very fine long-form improv here from Chris Abrahams (of The Necks fame) and Clayton and Miles Thomas (who apparently decided against billing themselves as “The Thomas Twins” or “Thomas 2.0”). Abrahams is on the piano, while Clayton handles the bass and Miles the drums, and they whip up a frenzied clatter here that occasionally verges on the spectacular. Favoring manic sustained repetition on all their assigned duties, this trio ventures somewhere in the post-rock and free-improv territories, and they do so with a firm confidence and headstrong attitude. Abrahams’s playing jumps from finger-jamming patterns to high-speed tonal splatter not unlike the great Cecil Taylor, and the two Thomases back him mightily, with drumming to recall an overheating industrial press and bass (alongside “preparations”) that swirls like a stick in a gallon of paint. At times, I’m imagining what Mosquitoes might sound like with some sort of conservatory pedigree; a track like “Insisting On The By Now” keenly interprets the mental state of a businessman who suddenly realized his hedge fund evaporated overnight. They squeeze in a few serene, contemplative moments too, but I’m celebrating this trio’s nerve-eroding blast extensions, of which Words Fail has plenty.

Alien Nosejob Paint It Clear LP (Anti Fade / Feel It)
I go back and forth with the numerous prolific punk solo-projects out there, Alien Nosejob being one of them (and one of the more revered). It’s great that Jake Robertson (of Ausmuteants and Leather Towel) is able to deliver at least two records a year as Alien Nosejob, wherein he plays all the instruments and sings, and it’s cool that they vary from snot-nosed punk to campy Italo disco, but I dunno… I’m not feeling very enthusiastic for Paint It Clear. That’s on me of course, but I am in much greater awe of the Gauze method (release an album once every six years for decades) than any artist that churns out record after record without taking a breath. You may differ! I’d surely change my tune if Paint It Clear was filled with undeniable hit after hit, but I’m not really sure what Robertson is going after here, besides writing new songs and releasing them. Some of the tracks favor an indie post-punk delivery, others are electro and Human League-ish in nature, and then there’s stuff like “The Butcher”, schmaltzy pop that owes more to Nilsson than Buzzcocks. It’s that and the ever-present synth, which is usually left on some sort of “basic keyboard” setting, the pre-set sound that loads when you turn the keyboard on, that prevents me from connecting. There are a couple Alien Nosejob records I sincerely love, but this isn’t one of them.

Félicia Atkinson & Jefre Cantu-Ledesma Un Hiver En Plein Été LP (Shelter Press)
There’s nary a more potent modern experimental / ambient-classical duo than Félicia Atkinson and Jefre Cantu-Ledesma. I don’t keep up with all of their work, either together or separate, but I can’t help but assume they save the really good stuff for their vinyl full-lengths – I know I would! Had to check in then with this new one, which pursues similar emotional wavelengths as their prior work – pensiveness, muddled clarity, sensual intrigue, hope and hopelessness – albeit in longer form. Like their Limpid As The Solitudes album, this one features fewer tracks at more expansive lengths, and they unfurl slowly and confidently, from incidental room noise and hushed speaking tones to stately piano motifs all by their lonesome. If I had to choose, I kind of prefer the short vignettes they’ve put together in the past, brief snapshots of ambient domestic life, but I find myself sinking deeply into the velvety folds of these pieces, especially with repeated listens. With friends guesting on wind instruments throughout, this one often feels more like an orchestra warming up than a collage of field-recordings, though both elements are surely present, like the subway train that softly emerges through the warm drones at the end of “Septembers”. While some of their records make me go hmmm, this one makes me go mmmm.

Michel Banabila Echo Transformations LP (Knekelhuis)
Pretty incredible that not only was Michel Banabila at the forefront of the experimental-ambient sound way back in the early ’80s, he’s been a constant force in the decades since, offering between one or six new albums per year. It’s cool to see a sonic forefather link up with Knekelhuis, a label that I’d consider to be on the forefront of forward-thinking contemporary electronic music, proof that age ain’t nothing but a number. Of course, with the rest of the world catching up to Banabila at this point, the fourth-world percussion and improvised bird-calls of “Balafon Dub” sounds less like an inconceivable style of the future and more like what everyone else is currently doing, but it still sounds mighty nice, and besides, he damn near started it. Alongside jazzy dub like “Balafon Dub”, Banabila cycles through formless electronic bliss, lengthy passages of radio-transmission static or dusty piano loops (“The Three Stages Of Endurance” and “Cassette Loops (KH042 Mix)”) and upbeat electro-folk-song grooves like “MltVz 5”, which sounds like Aïsha Devi collaborating with Donato Dozzy (a fantasy pairing I’m sad doesn’t already exist). Not a disappointed Knekelhuis fan in the house who spends some time with Echo Transformations, of that I’m certain!

Kath Bloom Long Way To Go Home 7″ (C/Site Recordings)
Kath Bloom is familiar to me as one of Loren Connors’ earliest counterparts, but a passing familiarity at best, I’m shy to admit. Glad to know she’s still out there charming folks with her voice and guitar, and still tethered to a thoughtful underground, teaming up with guitarist David Shapiro here for a trio of tunes. “Long Way To Go Home” is a tear-stained folk song for sure, the sort of thing that reminds me of the end of Old Yeller – a rural sadness in its purest form. Her voice wavers with emotion that can only be found in someone as experienced and well-aged as Bloom. The flip showcases a tender dual-guitar instrumental upon which a flute dances in tandem, and wraps with “Baby I’m The Dream”, which somehow feels even more vulnerable and naked than the title track. I can only assume that Bloom sings with such a vibrato on purpose, but it comes out more like a natural function of her voice, as though each word had its own corresponding tear ready to drip from the eye, even when the words themselves are smiling.

Body/Dilloway/Head Body/Dilloway/Head LP (Three Lobed)
I’m convinced you could stick Dilloway in the middle of any established duo and it’d pretty much rule. Gimme Hall & Dilloway & Oates! This is a particularly apropos collab, however, as the mucked-up tape loops of Aaron Dilloway are an easy fit for the experimental noise-guitar abstractions of Body/Head, the beloved duo of Kim Gordon and Bill Nace. My understanding is that Body/Dilloway/Head is the result of Dilloway mixing, editing and splicing raw recordings sent to him from Gordon and Nace, more of a “remix” situation than a three-way dance, but that is fine with me. Dilloway’s talents shine at the mixing desk stage, and he gives Body/Head a thorough haranguing on the a-side cut “Body/Erase”, whose title seems to hint at the process. Through a cloud of lifeless air, vocals are warbled beyond recognition, ever so slowly increasing in size until guitars eventually appear, buzzing and howling (under the influence of heat?). The two b-side cuts offer a lower barrier of entry, with Dilloway’s presence less immediately sensed as the Body/Head guitars encircle various zones of dilapidation and neglect. “Goin’ Down” is nearly pretty at times, at least in the same way that seagulls eating garbage on a frozen boardwalk can be.

Cousin Drumtalk / Toad 7″ (Moonshoe)
Very exciting single here from Sydney’s Cousin. If you’ve been reading these pages for a while, you might recall that Hessle Audio artist Joe is one of my personal faves, and I’ve never heard anyone else really remind me of his music until I threw on “Drumtalk” by Cousin. Snappy acoustic percussion is given a heady computer-edit rinse, taking what sounds like timpanis and wood blocks and shakers and piecing them together into an air-tight groove with just the right dub effervescence. If I was making a mix right now (I’m not), “Drumtalk” would receive a prime slot – it’s a cut I want to help share with the world. “Toad” is a little more psychedelic, layering what must be some honking toads with fluttering rhythms and more sweet percussive floor-work. A rich drone persists as well, sort of ringing up a “deep jungle at dusk” vibe which I am happy to speculatively conjure as the groove rolls on. Looks like there are a couple of older Cousin records out there so I guess I’ll spend my holiday break investigating those instead of hugging friends and family.

Game Legerdemain 12″ (Quality Control HQ)
It’s generally understood that metal exists in a realm of powerful fantasy and punk in stark reality, and London’s Game are one of the few groups that manage to pull off both simultaneously. This new 12″ is massive, a heavy metal pounder that recalls medieval warriors storming the castle gates as much as greedy plutocrats pressing down on the big red nuclear button. Game blew me away with their debut LP, and this follow-up is no slouch, once again recalling the most thunderous moments of Hirax, Sacrilege and Crumbsuckers without feeling retro. I’ll note that Legerdemain in particular skews even further into spiky metal territory than hardcore-punk, perhaps the M.A.N. to their LP’s Detestation if you catch my drift. It absolutely rules though, with particularly bone-crunching riffs and the multilingual vocals of Ola Herbich, who continues to sound like some sort of occult demigod who finally destroyed the X-Men once and for all. Exceptional!

Grouper Shade LP (Kranky)
Chances are you already know there’s a new Grouper album out, seeing as she seems to be one of the most universally-beloved American experimental musicians around these days (and understandably so). I was waiting until my vinyl copy showed up, as I prefer an “intimate” listening experience with Grouper’s music, at least at first and until I’m familiar with the tunes. This new one feels quite intimate indeed, often little more than her voice and acoustic guitar, though it’s never quite that simple. Her recording techniques always seem to allow ghosts to wander in and out, trailing her voice or vibrating on some other level entirely. I love when Grouper piles on the noise, as though there’s a tiny ancient piano buried deep below a silty riverbed, but I’m enamored with the simple songs on offer here as well, sounding as sad, hopeful and beautiful as ever. To complete my intimate experience, I sprung for the limited hand-pressed version of Shade, and am startled to notice that as of the date of this review’s publication, no one has tried to flip a copy on Discogs for big bucks – such is a testament to the quality of her music that no one wants to give this up, not even for an easy profit. At least not immediately.

Hits Cielo Nublado LP (Paisley Shirt)
Sometimes it feels like more punk bands would be more comfortable calling themselves Duds than Hits, so good on Hits for owning the fact that, at least on some playful level, they think highly of themselves. I’ve heard nice things about this Oakland indie-pop trio, and Cielo Nublado confirms that they were well-founded. They’ve got a spunky, jangly sound, one that calls to mind Tiger Trap, Another Sunny Day, Dolly Mixture and The Field Mice, though Hits don’t always take the straightforward route. Sweet and soft as these tunes are, some of them sputter, drift and wander in weird ways, an aspect that I find appealing. There are always verses and choruses, but I like a band that is happy to spiral off on their own accord. Wait, I just realized that Max Nordile is in this band, so the subtle lack of conformity makes plenty of sense knowing his musical track record. I’d tell you that my favorite tune here is the opener “Static Drizz” for the way that bandleader Jen Weisberg sings about salads spinning, but it’s probably “Alan Vega”, the love song I can’t believe hadn’t already been written. Who can’t relate to loving Alan Vega?

Jay Glass Dubs x Laura Agnusdei Jungle Shuffle 12″ (The Wormhole)
Very cool 12″ here on multiple fronts. I’ll start with the front, in fact, as there are four different hand-printed variants each with its own quote; figured I’d share the one I’ve got here. Of course, a good cover alone does not a good record make, but this Jay Glass Dubs “rework” of a track from Laura Agnusdei’s 2019 debut is richly hypnotic, perfectly toeing the intersection of goth-occult, dub-techno and experimental composition. I haven’t heard Agnusdei’s original, but my interest is certainly piqued by Jay Glass Dub’s swirling remix, with flute, clarinet, trumpet, alto and tenor sax all invoking the siren’s call and chattering albatrosses. Stellar cut! The flipside is the “beatless” version, and true to form, the stuttering drum-break of the a-side is absent, allowing the horns to simmer in their own juices as a blood-red mist hovers low to the surface. Feels like something Current 93 would’ve tried to make in 1988 if the technology was there, but it also feels like something Shackleton would sneak onto a mix. Yum!

C Joynes Poor Boy On The Wire LP (Cardinal Fuzz / Sophomore Lounge)
For as technologically sped-up as the world seems lately, there sure are a lot of folks out there who maintain deep, complex and monogamous relationships with their guitars, and I for one applaud that. You can add C Joynes to the list, an English guitarist whose playing is steeped in the American Primitive tradition. With this unadorned electric guitar, Joynes traverses a jaunty plain. It’s probably like comparing any punk record to the Sex Pistols, but the spirit of John Fahey feels alive in some of these tracks, particularly the more lyrical melodies (see “Mapperly Park To Atlow Moat To Leamoor Derby Road”). Certain songs almost seem to beg for an emotionally-equivalent vocalist to join in, but maybe that’s just the pop music fan in me – Joynes is more than fine on his own with his fingers doing all the talking. The playing is refined, but the pleasure of listening is simple.

J.R.C.G. Ajo Sunshine LP (Castle Face)
Castle Face is one of those few American guitar-rock labels that seems to successfully sell lots of records, and yet I rarely pay any attention. Chalk it up to my disinterest in The Oh Sees and prejudice toward King Gizzard (surely you can understand), but from a quick scan it seems like they actually release some cool (if possibly superfluous) records by bands like Feral Ohms and Uranium Club, and any label putting out solo Mikey Young records gets an automatic thumbs up. Add this new album from Dreamdecay’s Justin R. Cruz Gallego to the pluses list too! When hardcore/punk dudes do solo records they usually are either replicating a regular band by playing all the instruments or drifting off on a synth-based excursion, but Ajo Sunshine takes a different path. Not sure how J.R.C.G. pieced it all together, but this is a heady collection of heavy-psych tunes informed by krautrock, noise, drone and rock. At times I’m recalling the psychedelic push-pull of Agitation Free, at others I’m reminded of Black Dice’s Beaches & Canyons. While decades apart, both of those references offer a warmth within their repetitive rhythms and slinky grooves which is shared by Ajo Sunshine. Even when he puts on his moon boots and stomps through the Hawkwind-on-ludes-ish title track, it feels down to earth and personable, not cold and spacey. I tell ya: drummers, man! Leave ’em alone for a little while and they’ll come up with the wildest stuff.

John Laux Quarantine Party LP (no label)
John Laux’s solo debut Quarantine Party certainly sounds like a quarantine party: no one’s there! This is some desolate and morose anti-folk music, sounding as though it was prepared with whatever instrumentation was laying around, even that rusty-stringed acoustic guitar an old roommate forgot to take when they moved out. Played at a relaxed pace suitable for someone currently testing positive with the Coronavirus, these songs smear a picture of loneliness, boredom and fear, an emotional cocktail I’m sure we’re all familiar with at this point. Reminds me of Eugene Chadbourne on his deathbed, Chris Durham’s Church Shuttle project or, get ready for this, Jandek covering Ween. Laux is generally a noisy rocker – besides playing in Tractor Sex Fatality and Musk, he’s responsible for the great sludgy noise-punk of Slicing Grandpa – but this one is mostly free from heavy distortion, a more direct viewing of the man and artist, albeit through smudged lenses. Good for him for making an album out of our current mess, and rendering his name in a death metal design on the cover.

Low Life From Squats To Lots: The Agony And XTC Of Low Life LP (Goner / Lulus Sonic Disc Club)
Is there a band around today more impressed by themselves than Low Life? On one hand, I admire their eternal chutzpah, their brazen self-appreciation in the form of a lengthy explanation on how to listen to this new album of theirs (check the Bandcamp), but on the other, it’s a bit much, right? Plus, they seem to be enamored by the way in which they are failures by society’s standards, obsessed with drugs and unclean housing and the things that cease to titillate most people who mature into adulthood. And yet, it is alluring, especially when done by a group as confident as Low Life. While vastly different on a sonic level, they remind me of Salem in their knack for captivating an audience with crude imagery, a basic or unsophisticated level of songwriting and grandiose self-mythologizing. So, maybe I should get on with talking about the music! Much like their previous album, this is shoegaze dream-pop with an occasional hard edge or post-punk agitation, sort of finding its grey place between Stone Roses, Nothing and that last Constant Mongrel album. It’s fine, but also the least interesting aspect of the group. I’ve listened to all their albums, and the most memorable tune is still the one where they chant “you know who the fuck we are” (“RBB” from Downer Edn), a testament to how proud Low Life are of being Low Life.

Bill Nace & Paul Flaherty Touchless 7″ (Open Mouth)
Bill Nace digs deep into his archive for this 2009 studio session, paired up with the disarmingly gregarious Paul Flaherty on his alto sax. Now it’s a seven-inch limited to 150 copies on his Open Mouth label. What’s not to like? “End Or No End” opens with Nace’s seasick strings, the sonic equivalent to when you open a Tupperware of chopped veggies that looked fresh but immediately inform your nose that they are not. The swaying strings meet some sort of pulsing tremor right as Flaherty’s big gusts come through, like goats skipping down a mountain sideways at full speed. And just when it reaches a dual fever pitch, they simultaneously stop on a dime. I’m surprised Flaherty was able to suppress a hearty laugh at the sharp timing! “Based On Letters Written To Their Children” is the flip, and this time Flaherty opens it with his quick-fingered licks, though it’s not long before he’s joined by some truly caustic, ear-popping static from Nace. Nace’s guitar seems unwilling to let even a piece of paper slide beneath it, but Flaherty eventually finds an opening, like a mouse that only needs a dime-sized hole to penetrate a kitchen cabinet. Two very refreshing blasts, nice on 45 though I find myself longing for more.

Power Supply In The Time Of The Sabre-toothed Tiger LP (Anti Fade / Goner)
It appears that The Ooga Boogas changed their name to the title of a Budgie album. Or is it a “new band”, only one that happens to have the exact same personnel and formation as Ooga Boogas? Regardless, I’m thrilled that these upstanding Australian gents have a new one for us (including the illustrious Mikey Young on guitar). I’d hope you as a dear reader are familiar with the first Ooga Boogas album, a masterpiece of loutish adult-male rock n’ roll, and I’m pleased to say that In The Time Of The Sabre-toothed Tiger is a worthwhile new chapter for the boys. Much like the second Ooga Boogas album, this one has mellowed considerably; these songs are relaxed and downright pleasant, without a doubt the closest to Pavement’s later years any of these guys have ever gotten with one of their bands. Leon Stackpole’s vocals are charming, descriptive and more fantastical than ever before… has someone stumbled upon some psychedelics? Big personality on display here, from the words to the music that surrounds it, a stupid and celebratory sense of fun that no group of middle-aged men deserve to be having right now.

Jürgen Ratan Ringtones 7″ (Tax Free)
Tax Free released the weird n’ wonderful Iris album a few months ago, so when I saw they just put out an EP of “ringtones” by someone named Jürgen Ratan, I couldn’t resist peeping. Ratan slaps seven tracks on this seven-inch record, and while I was prepared for possible trickery or musical sleight of hand, this is kind of what it says it is: seven appealingly inoffensive electronic ringtones for your battery-depleted Samsung Galaxy. Ratan seems to have accessed the same digital software packs utilized by any given corporate call center, and he puts together some pleasantly inoffensive loops here, ripe for Apple or Microsoft’s sound labs circa 2010. Much like “real” ringtones, these songs vaguely gesture towards electro-pop, techno and library music, resulting in sound effects that would cause zero commotion if broadcast from a stranger’s pocket in an elevator or on the bus. My faves are “Stauferpark”, with its funky back-beat and quizzical melodies, and “Jan Min-Soek” for its oddly-pitched percussion (think Jon Hassell in a bite-sized chunk), but the whole EP is a pleasingly playful reflection upon the sounds and devices of our time.

Refedex The Top Of Off LP (Tropical Cancer Rort)
Do you think the name refers to the act of sending a FedEx package back to its origin? Probably not, but I’m content to imagine so as I listen to this group’s debut album. It’s on Tropical Cancer Rort, a Brisbane-based label that focuses on the noisier end of underground Aussie rock, and Refedex’s surly, sidewinding songs fit right in. They’re like a grungy post-punk band that sounds mature for their age (whatever their ages may be), opening with the almost Swans-like “Hard Yakka”, though understand that this isn’t remotely industrial or experimental in nature. Refedex sounds like a band that isn’t afraid of the big spider that caused the other roommates to run out screaming; in fact, they’ll squash it with their bare hands without a second thought. While the music moves like The Gordons or Deaf Wish – darkened discordant indie-rock, let’s say – the vocals are so distraught and inflamed that the songs end up hitting more like the emo-core of Merel or Econochrist. The energy of these songs prefers to simmer rather than splash, however, which provides Refedex with their own distinctive sense of aggressive unease. Nice!

Rider/Horse Select Trials LP (Ever/Never)
Spray Paint was always one of the busier garage-y post-punk bands of the prior decade, releasing a slew of albums, singles and even some curious collaborations. I couldn’t figure out if they were living in Austin or Australia or both, but ex-member Cory Plump has allegedly relocated to Kingston, NY, where he started Rider/Horse with Chris Turco (who has done time in Trans Am and Les Savy Fav). Now there’s doing Rider/Horse together, and it certainly sounds like a record from two grown men well-versed in what the (post-)hardcore scene has had to offer over the last twenty years and keenly aware of what they’d like to contribute to it now. In this case, it’s a lean and mechanical form of downer post-punk. As a two-piece who presumably had some decent studio access (even if it’s just one of their homes), they clearly had time to play around with things and massage these tracks into more than simple-sounding live takes: drums appear to be cut-up and looped at times and live at others, and the guitars take on a variety of forms, from discordant chemical peels to chiming melodic leads. Reminds me of Psychic Graveyard, Big Black and Exhaustion, as well as Spray Paint and Trans Am to an extent, though Rider/Horse like to leave a little breathing room in their music. Though what exactly it is they’re breathing up in Kingston remains unclear.

Silicon Heartbeat Silicon Heartbeat 7″ (It’s Trash!)
A lotta punk bands these days that seem to be infatuated with retro-dystopian sci-fi aesthetics, bands who apparently dream of the day that a Terminator bursts into their bedroom and obliterates them on sight. Could be because Misfits records are seemingly more popular now than ever, or because we truly seem to be living in a Robocop-esque nightmare hellscape, but whatever the case, you can add Michigan’s Silicon Heartbeat to the stack, what appears to be (yet another) solo project. This one follows the rulebook pretty squarely, but that’s not necessarily a complaint – sometimes I want my scuzzy synth-laced bedroom punk to be nothing more and nothing less than that. Songs like “Galaxy Invaders” and “(I’m A) Void” sound like a syrup-drunk Spits, played mid-tempo or slow-mid-tempo with plenty of digital crunch to the guitars and a synthesizer consistently howling a single note in the background. My favorite aspect is probably the vocals, which are delivered in a monotone speaking voice and lightly distorted, not merely singing about outer-space digital horror but vocally inhabiting one of the heartless scientists you might find aboard your spacecraft prison. If they don’t blast this sorta thing in the Facebook Meta virtual-reality world, they’re messing up!

Smirk E.P. 12″ (Total Punk)
Smirk has earned the right to smirk after the last year, when they (er, he) greeted the scene with an album of high-quality, high-anxiety punk. I believe that by now, Smirk has played a show or two as an actual band, but they seem to mostly be the studio project of one Nic Vicario (of Ceremony-related hardcore group Crisis Man). He clearly knows his way around a classic-sounding punk tune, and puts it into action on these seven tracks, which shift from cool-aloof to nervous-manic and back again. Reminds me of the rock-inspired, sunglasses-wearing first-wavers like Plugz, Catholic Discipline and Crime, and at least a little of contemporary youthful underdogs Institute. For a punk solo project, Vicario makes the effort to switch things up while maintaining a theme – I swear, he uses a different guitar (or at least different amps or pedals or different something) on each of these tracks, from fuzzy garage tones to the more elegant chime of “Lost Cities” (which wins the award for “most Strokes-sounding song ever released by Total Punk”). However you slice it, this is very cool stuff, classic in execution but modern in its paranoid fear of tomorrow.

Socio La Difekta Kreski 7″ (Beach Impediment)
So you’re telling me the best European crust-core seven-inch I’ve heard this year came from… Japan?? I suppose that checks out, and not because Euros are slacking but because Japanese hardcore is forever willing to emulate the sounds of other countries in an extreme fashion. Socio La Difekta play it fast and crusty, certainly in deference to Discharge, but also recalling Masskontroll, Disrupt, Hiatus and even Fleas & Lice in the vocal interplay. Classic crust, but mostly faster than they did it in the ’90s, and clearly unafraid of blatant homage: the opening cut “Polico Fikas Aĉulon” translates to “Police Fucking Bastard”, in what appears to be a direct nod to Doom. (Notably and unusually, all of Socio La Difekta’s songs and lyrics are in Esperanto, though the insert handily provides both Japanese and English translations.) Kind of a curve-ball from Beach Impediment, who tend to favor meat-and-potatoes style hardcore-punk, though the boiled cabbage and lentils of Kreski are equally filling, and probably more cost-effective and socially responsible, too.

Tower 7 …Peace On Earth? LP (Roachleg / D4MT Labs Inc Neurosonic Research)
Damn! This is some scalding-hot metalli-crust for the true heads… and I suppose also people like me who insist on washing their micro-fleece bedsheets once a week, because I love it too. I’m fairly certain “Tower 7” is a 9/11 reference, and seeing as this group is from New York (and closely tied to the Kaleidoscope / Straw Man Army crew), this is pretty much exactly the band I want to hear scream about 9/11. It doesn’t hurt that their songs are absolutely vicious – the riffing is almost entirely metallic in nature, but the drums are played in a fast psycho-hardcore style ala Deep Wound and Mecht Mensch, and the recording is exceptionally gritty and deep in the D4MT tradition. The vocalist has a hoarse scream-from-the-grave style with proper enunciation so you can understand what he’s so anguished by, which I appreciate. Reminds me of Rorschach at twice the speed, or Citizen’s Arrest covering Amebix; it has that ABC No Rio feel while avoiding the white-guy dreadlocks / Choking Victim aspects of that scene, definitely a best case scenario situation for NYC metallic crust-core. Filthy sounding music, even if the squats have all but evaporated in a sanitized haze of Duane Reades and Chipotles.

Trip Shrubb Trewwer, Leud Un Danz LP (Faitische)
Fans of ultra-minimal (I’m talking min-i-mal) electronic loops, take note – here’s a very cool barely-there transmission for your entertainment. Trip Shrubb is the moniker (or is it supposed to be a first and last name?) used by Michael Beckett, whom I recognize best as KPT.Michi.Gan, whose experimental IDM records piqued my interest some twenty years ago. For this project, Beckett looks to Harry Smith’s 1950s Folkways recordings and uses them as the initial sound source of Trewwer, Leud Un Danz. Don’t expect to hear any blown jugs or strummed fiddles, though – he reduces the initial sounds to extreme base-level sinewaves and loops them with very little deviation. “Wach Up, Jakob”, for example, sounds like a micro-snippet of any given Maurizio track looped into the void. Most people out there will not enjoy this, or perhaps even consider it music, and while I wouldn’t attempt to argue the musicality of this work, I am extremely partial to dub techniques applied to murky, bare-bones loops of low-end tones, and that’s basically all that this one is. I’d say that Harry Smith might be rolling in his grave if he knew his recordings ended up like this, but on reflection, this album is probably what it sounds like to roll in one’s grave.

Urwelt Distant Galaxies Collide LP (Sleeping Giant Glossolalia)
Everything about this record is in aesthetic harmony with itself. From the cover of an imposing primitive tunnel (reminds me of that one the Christian Bale Batman had to train in and escape from) to the album title to the artist name to the sounds within, a singular vibe of vast cosmic oppression is successfully conjured and maintained. I almost wonder if I opened my dictionary and located “Urwelt”, would its definition be “an instance of distant galaxies colliding”? This sort of rich industrial droning shouldn’t come as a surprise from this duo, one of whom is Ramleh member Anthony Di Franco. As Urwelt, he teams with Kevin Laska for these four ominous tracks of sustained electronic bass-tones and cyclical noise interference. For as vivid as our universe can be, at least through high-powered telescope photography, Distant Galaxies Collide promotes an absence of color; these tracks rumble endlessly as if trapped inside a churning cement truck. It’s harsh, but not in any sort of traditional macho power-electronics way – their endlessly rippling low-end is almost calming, at least in the sense that we are merely tiny blips on a tiny blip inside a tiny blip.

Wristwatch Wristwatch LP (FDH)
I’m telling you, I sincerely want to like a Bobby Hussy record. He seems like a swell guy: he’s deeply involved in the garage-punk scene, putting out records and recording bands and generally just a positive addition to the underground. Wristwatch appears to be his 2020 quarantine project – he plays guitar, sings, plays bass and programs the drums here – and, like all his other records, this one falls pretty flat for me. It’s mid-tempo poppy punk with a drum machine and exaggeratedly warbly vocals that distinctly recall Jay Reatard. Perfectly acceptable stuff, no harm no foul, but in this bounteous era of music, particularly poppy garage-punk with subtle synth-leanings, Wristwatch falls smack in the bottom-middle of the pack, buffered by hundreds of bands that do it better and dozens of bands that do it worse. He’s clearly passionate about music, but the music here feels anonymous and basic. The lyrics generally moan and groan about dealing with fake people, fake friends, real jerks, anxiety and doubt, but not in any sort of compelling way, nor are they delivered with a must-hear hook. Can’t say I’ll be spinning this one again anytime soon, but knowing Bobby Hussy, he’s probably waiting for his next record to come back from the plant now anyway – maybe that’ll finally be the one for me!