Bandshell Part-Time Gunslinger 12″ (F T D)
I was recently listening to Bandshell’s 2012 debut, Dust March, and couldn’t help but appreciate its continued freshness. Now it’s five years later and the mysterious Bandshell continues to drop new releases on an infrequent basis, like this four-track 12″ EP. It opens with “Credit Fangs”, a series of exhaust-blasting pistons operating amidst a Ginsu knife demonstration. “Gruberfund” twitches like an old robot made in the fallout of dubstep’s demise, somehow crawling out of the closet without the necessary battery charge, whereas “Polarising Haircut” (great title) works a similar rhythmic pattern (think early ’10s Skream or Mala) with body-blow percussion and an unwieldy laser beam. Two minutes of “Snow Directives” concludes the matter, a brief twinkling of artificial light. Part-Time Gunslinger doesn’t carry the dramatic effect of hearing Dust March for the first time, but as far as acerbic, industrial-tinged post-dubstep music is concerned, this one’s a winner.
Color TV Paroxeteens 7″ (Neck Chop)
Kinda weird that this group didn’t use “Paroxeteens” for their name instead, am I wrong here? It’s a cool weird name in the proud punk tradition, whereas “Color TV” just seems like a “we need to come up with something quick for our first show this weekend” kind of moniker, very basic and impersonal. At the very least they could’ve jazzed it up with the British spelling and been Colour TV! That’s the first and only criticism I have for this Minnesotan punk group at the moment, however, as both songs on this 7″ single are strong efforts, ready-to-wear right out of the gate and primed with an infectious energy. “Paroxeteens” has a Blood Visions-esque speedy jitter that calms down for the chorus with a great little volley of “oh-oh!”s one might expect from Marked Men. “Night After Night” pretty much moves in a similar direction, amped-up Brit-punk verses that smooth out into choruses ripe for The Hives or The Briefs – it’s definitely underground approved, but would easily appeal to a less basement-minded fan of poppy punk, someone who might actually bemoan the Warped Tour’s indefinite hiatus. Throw these tracks on a mixtape with Night Birds and The Ergs and see if you can’t convert that ex-Warped Tour lover to exclusively listening to live Coneheads bootlegs on YouTube in six months.
Cup Hiccup LP (Aagoo)
So the artist is Cup and the album is Hiccup, but I feel like I would’ve preferred it the other way around. (Why do I care about band names so much? Because of the various poor choices I’ve made?) I’ll just have to suck it up, though, and do my best to enjoy this album of entry-level garage-rock, straight outta Brooklyn, NY. After a few runs, nothing on Hiccup really stands out, but that’s not to call it bad – these tunes recall Ty Segall at his most straightforward garage-rock, a randomly-selected Burger Records release that doesn’t have “psychedelic” in the description, or the fourth best Oh Sees album released in any given year. The tunes are almost all under two minutes long, a strategy that I heartily approve of for basically any rock group, and no harm nor foul is committed. That said, there’s nothing to pull me back for multiple listens either (besides in my case, journalistic duty), and I have to wonder who is truly going to be thrilled to listen to Hiccup in our world of endless musical options. Hopefully someone!
Dadar Sick Of Pasta 7″ (Spastic Fantastic)
What’s up with Italian groups referencing stereotypically Italian food lately? First there’s the industrial noise of Stromboli, and now Dadar, who dare to come out and wish they could have tacos or stir-fry a little more often. I wasn’t sure what they’d sound like, but it turns out they’re a very easy-to-like punk group. It’s a high-speed version of the classic sound, somewhere around Adolescents, Total Control and Love Triangle, with a vocalist who sounds like Minor Threat-era Ian Mackaye at one moment and Per Almqvist the next. They do a fine job with it across these four songs, about as tight as speedy punk can be with pogo-ready rhythms and a fun sense of abandon. Cool trick in “Get Away” too, where the vocalist’s moan somehow morphs into a bloopy keyboard solo (or maybe there’s no keyboard at all and he’s the Michael Winslow of punk?). People travel from across the globe in an effort to taste authentic Italian pasta, and here are these bozos, ungrateful that they have to eat it at all. I applaud them!
Diamond Terrifier Cipher Chapel Master 12″ (Styles Upon Styles)
Looking for something different? How about this 12″ EP by the intriguingly-named Diamond Terrifier Cipher, who features members of bands as disparately strange as Zs, Ink & Dagger and Cibo Matto?? And what do you know, it’s really quite great, an unusual sonic journey that combines avant-garde sonic formations with the sturdy architecture of techno and the rigorous compositional detail one might associate with Zs. Discogs lists it as “experimental / jazz”, and while I don’t think that’s entirely wrong, I’d say that Chapel Master is a dance record at heart, even if it’s equally suited to high-brow choreography and sweaty basement-level dance parties. I’m reminded quite a bit of Gang Gang Dance, in the way that a potent melange of influences is wrangled together and led by a possessed vocalist. You’ll wonder if it’s a processed trumpet or the voice of Miho Hatori soaring like an agitated goose while a dusty tech-house rhythm chugs down at land level. Part of the fun is not knowing, and passing the steering wheel over to Diamond Terrifier Cipher, assured they’re going to take you somewhere strange and maybe a little scary but you’ll remain safe in their custody. The 12″ has four originals and four remixes (the originals steal the show), and it’s stupidly limited to one hundred copies, so why not join me and 98 other cool people before it’s too late?
DJ Richard Path Of Ruin 12″ (Dial)
The emergence of the White Material label / DJ collective wouldn’t have been the same without DJ Richard. He’s always been elusive in a way that I appreciate, so let’s check in with a new 12″ on the stately German label Dial. “Path Of Ruin (Pain Mix)” kicks it off, and it’s a well-considered cut of well-after-dark house music. Even the hi-hats sound like the twinkling of the moon’s reflection on water after midnight, with pulsing synth stabs that don’t imply pain so much as safety, a deep-house protector of sorts. That mood continues to the flip with “Gargoyle”, barely in the BPM triple digits as it glides over a cloudy melody with cool percussion and a couple peculiar leads, particularly a randomized arpeggiator that proceeds into a wine-soaked waltz… it’s lovely indeed! At this point I’ve nearly reached the perfect house-induced catatonic state and “Stygian Freeze” seals the deal, a soft gravity-free orbit around a frozen synth. I’m almost reminded of something off Tin Man’s Vienna Blue but “Stygian Freeze” isn’t a light snow flurry, it’s buried deep within the ice. This is the perfect 12″ to dance yourself into slumber all winter long.
Drunk Elk In The Tuscan Sun / Wings Of Winter 7″ (I Dischi Del Barone)
This website is one of the few outlets in my life where I can say something like “I love me some Drunk Elk!” and hope that someone else might understand. I’m lucky to have it! This new two-track EP comes from the unexpected locale of I Dischi Del Barone, but I suppose even the most hardened of avant-garde noiseniks can’t deny the sweet fragile beauty of Hobart, Tasmania’s Drunk Elk. “In The Tuscan Sun” isn’t as warm as you might expect, more of a hydrating breather in the shadows, slightly pained and beautiful (and strictly percussion-free). “Wings Of Winter” throws a second-hand keyboard into the mix but the tone and mood remain the same, a simple playground melody through which I can’t imagine vocalist Dave Elk making any human eye contact. Surely a cousin to moody slow-core like Bedhead and Kepler, but with the lingering sense of early ’80s post-punk, not ’90s emo. The 7″ comes with a short story that I’ve yet to read (waiting for a particularly chilly and lonely night), and would make a fine addition to anyone’s I Dischi collection.
Errorsmith Superlative Fatigue 2xLP (Pan)
Seeing a lot of praise for Errorsmith’s first album in thirteen years, Superlative Fatigue, and after sitting with its hypercolor grooves for a bit, it’s easy to understand why. In a sea of endless electronic releases (even the great ones are far larger in number than any one person could ever listen to), Errorsmith’s fairly simple setup stands out, both from a sonic perspective and the amount of fun that seems to be at play. Superlative Fatigue is pretty easy to summarize: reggaeton, West African and dancehall beats programmed on recognizable electro pads with refreshingly strange state-of-the-art software (in part designed by Errorsmith himself) used for the melodic voice-based leads. It’s music that sounds like it could easily be created live by one person with two hands and a mic on a stand, and hard to stop listening to once you realize what you’re in for. If it reminds me of anyone, the frantic live-action dub of Ekoplekz would compare, but Errorsmith seems far tidier, as though his setup fits in a shoulder bag and each patch cord is precisely wrapped and stowed for travel. Opener “Lightspeed” sets the tone with a rollicking beat and a humanoid voice slowly coasting through various vowel sounds, and by the time the tropical mania of “I’m Interesting, Cheerful & Sociable” hits, you can’t help but wonder why other producers insist on using so many different sounds all at once.
Fire Heads Fire Heads LP (Big Neck)
Fire Heads are a garage-punk group outta Wisconsin, featuring a couple members of The Hussy and a couple members of Dumb Vision. (I never heard Dumb Vision before, but I think I have to, as that name is really cracking me up – do they all walk around like Mr. Magoo on stage? How did they all agree on “Dumb Vision”? Do they refuse to wear their prescribed glasses? I have so many questions.) Anyway, Fire Heads is clearly the work of seasoned professionals, dudes who have probably spent years working toward being in a band as tight, taut and blazing as Fire Heads since they got their first musical instruments as teenagers. They’re like an amped-up Saints for the most part, executing these twelve tracks with authority and confidence, completely disregarding the fact that the majority of the world has moved on from rock bands. Things kinda blend together after a while, as most tracks maintain a similar tempo, and the guitar tends to blaze out a sweet solo around the same point in most songs, but the lack of a clear and obvious hit doesn’t diminish Fire Heads’ success – hell, even the bassist seems to be giving it his all, and whoever actually cares what the bassist is doing? Good on Fire Heads for stepping out with something to prove.
Fully Glazed Bone In / Bone Out 7″ (Petty Bunco)
I’ve traveled the world in the past year, and no matter where I go, the locals ask me the same question: “what’s up with Watery Love these days?”. Well, I’ve got good news and bad news: Watery Love are on a semi-permanent hiatus, but its two founding members started Fully Glazed with a friend, and after a tape or two, made it to vinyl. They play shows on occasion, but are centered on practice/jamming in the basement simply for their own pleasure, which of course is the most noble reason of all for being in a band. The two tracks here give us a peek into their process: cyclical rock grooves positioned directly between Crazy Horse and The Dead C. No vocals, just drums and two guitars, one of which tends to overheat while the other maintains a steady 98.6. You can almost hear the attitude of Watery Love in the one-chord down-strumming, but Fully Glazed are mellow and comfortable – if they were a pair of pants, you can bet there’d be an elastic waistband. It would be pretty awkward if you walked down the basement steps of the Philadelphia Record Exchange and stumbled upon a Fully Glazed practice sesh without a case of domestic beer over your shoulder, so listening to this 7″ single is a much cheaper option.
Gay Witch Abortion / The Grasshopper Lies Heavy split LP (Learning Curve)
Learning Curve is really gunning to be the AmRep of the ’10s, churning out lots of heavy, dude-centric rock carnage, like this new split between Minneapolis’s Gay Witch Abortion and San Antonio’s The Grasshopper Lies Heavy. The name alone has me thinking Gay Witch Abortion are Butthole Surfers fans, which is quite likely as this duo (aided by Tom Hazelmyer on bass for this studio sesh, apparently) pound out their heavy rock in the age-old tradition. I’m reminded of a workmanlike, non-artsy Lightning Bolt at times, or post-Landed act Vincebus Eruptum in the way that their blue-collar riffs are dragged through the street. Nothing fancy or special, just crunchy and pummeling rock. As anticipated, the music of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy is certainly a suitable companion to Gay Witch Abortion. Churning and heavy rock aggression that nods in favor of Helmet and Cherubs, and probably would sound utterly sick with Zach de la Rocha angrily rapping over top. Instead, it sounds perfectly fine with the standard-issue bellowing/screaming, though by no means exceptional. Gets the job done, though!
Gee Tee Death Race 7″ (Neck Chop)
Quick, you’ve got sixty seconds to use this pair of children’s scissors, a pen and an old issue of Car And Driver magazine to design a 7″ cover! I bet Gee Tee still had forty seconds left over after turning theirs in, which seems to be the prevailing punk aesthetic these days. This prepared me to stare blankly through their music, but go figure, they’re actually quite entertaining! It has that modern sound, for sure: cardboard drums, the lo-fi warmth of a borrowed four-track, abrasively clean guitar tones, nasal vocals, a thrifted synth, but something about Gee Tee works better than most. Maybe it’s because there seems to be an underlying interest in songwriting, like they actually took some time to make sure the riffs have the right balance of familiar and different, and the vocalist has an appealing snarl, like if Joe Queer had a punk nephew who was constantly embarrassed by the right-wing crap his uncle posts to Facebook. Comparisons to CCTV and Coneheads aren’t entirely unfounded, but Gee Tee are proudly mid-tempo and never verge on hardcore, plus they’re singing about classic cars and horror schlock in the proud tradition. The first “elder” punk I ever met also collected vintage metal lunch-pails and displayed them alongside his collection of rare Misfits singles, and I bet if he heard Gee Tee’s Death Race, he’d ask to borrow and tape it. Then I’d tell him about Bandcamp and blow his damn mind.
His Electro Blue Voice Mental Hoop LP (Iron Lung)
At this point, His Electro Blue Voice are underground survivors: what other band got started with SS Records and Sacred Bones, jumped to Sub Pop, then struck up a deal with Iron Lung a decade later? And all from the remote peninsula known as Italy, no less! They’ve more or less been operating with the same sound for all this time too, heavy-grooving laser-guided post-punk, and it still suits them on Mental Hoop, perhaps better than ever. Songs here remind me of the punkest Melvins tracks, or a particularly heavy Venom P. Stinger, or maybe even Neu! under the influence of The Jesus Lizard. Many tracks have that classic krautrock drum propulsion, as though the song is being driven into an endless horizon… in case I ever wondered what Moon Duo would sound like reconfigured to play hardcore, I need only reach for Mental Hoop. There’s even a track that repurposes the chorus to Dr. Octagon’s “Earth People”, in case you thought HEBV were starting to get predictable. It’s deceptively melodic too, as though the group is tempted by populist rock riffing even if they insist on scuffing it up. I’m just hoping they can find a way to work with 12XU, Drag City and Total Punk over the next ten years.
Isotope Soap The WOW! Signal EP 7″ (Levande Begravd)
Swedish punk group Isotope Soap are presumably named after Geza X’s fine contribution to the Let Them Eat Jellybeans comp (a formative punk staple for yours truly), so I was looking forward to some appropriately loopy, perhaps keyboard-driven punk rock. I got all that and more on the opening cut “Magnetic Abortion Of A Black Hole”, a gloomy industrial-punk jam with outrageous evil robot vocals. They’re not human with effects, but purely psychotic cartoon villain, and I was thrilled to think that a band would commit to such a bold and polarizing vocal approach. Unfortunately, it was just a tease, as the rest of the EP plays out with far more accessible (but still crazy-eyed) punk vocals, bouncing off the walls of a rubber room as the rest of the group attempts to throw him off time with their zig-zagging post-punk moves. I wish that evil villain overlord voice persisted, but their more standard approach to nihilistic keyboard-punk is nice as well, clearly in homage to Midwestern misanthropes like Ice 9 and Mentally Ill. Plus I think there’s that unshakeable pride that Swedish people have in whatever they do, which ensures Isotope Soap are tight and well-recorded as opposed to being a truly degenerate mess of gaseous and liquid discharges. Even so, the b-side is a buzzing hive of punk electronics, and I’m mentally noting Isotope Soap as A Punk Band To Watch.
Jackson Politick Paste V.1 LP (Neck Chop)
Jackson Politick is apparently a new solo-project by Andy Human, whose other solo project is, umm, “Andy Human”, alongside playing in bands like The World, his group with The Reptoids, and even another band reviewed this month (true punk rock sleuths will figure it out). Clearly this guy’s unable to function without constantly playing music, and I’d say society is better off this way, as from what I can tell his output has only increased in quality over the past few years. This Jackson Politick album is pretty tops, that’s for sure – I would’ve never guessed it’s a solo project, as each song is a fully-formed capsule, as opposed to a collection of instruments played in unison. Most of the record is a laid-back form of DIY punk, reminiscent of Section Urbane or The Sleaze, punk bands where the singer quietly speaks their words rather than shouting or screaming. A track like “I Get Carried Away” answers the question of “what would Dan Melchior sound like in a real punk band?”, right down to the deadpan vocals and ease of delivery. Maybe a little Home Blitz in Paste V.1 too, although decaffeinated and subdued, punk that sounds like it’s exhausted after a long flight. I’d say that Andy Human should try to turn Jackson Politick into a “real” band, but he’s got enough of those, so fake it shall proudly remain.
Jade Helm Human Condition 7″ (Gilgongo)
Jade Helm (daughter of Brocas Helm?) hail from Phoenix, Arizona, as is often the case with Gilgongo artists. You can trust this label to enthusiastically promote otherwise-unpublished art from their general vicinity, so this two-song 7″ single fits right in, although those expecting a noisy edge might feel a little skronk-deprived this time around. Jade Helm is the brainchild of one Jackie Cruz, and these two songs are perfectly acceptable poppy indie-rock, locked into melodies any fan of the genre has heard many times before. In this case, it’s not a detriment so much as a desired feature – this is indie-rock comfort food, music born of The Pixies, The Ramones and The Shop Assistants, with zooming guitar leads, jangly guitars and a slight twinkle recalling some minor form of shoegaze. Your mileage will depend on your appetite for this sort of thing: if you’ve got an online radio show with an hour to fill every week, “Human Condition” would probably prompt a few new Facebook likes, but if you’re only searching for the best of the best, Jade Helm may need to continue working on honing their own voice before your attention is warranted.
Knowso Look At The Chart 12″ (Neck Chop)
The comic art of Nathan Ward has been popping up left and right lately, notably adorning various cool punk records and even a recent Maximumrocknroll cover. It’s about time then that he got to use it for his own band, Knowso, and it looks pretty slick here as well. I wasn’t sure what music would come from this artistic mind, but it turns out it’s basic contemporary weirdo punk, heavy on the floor tom, riffs continually down-picked, choruses shouted in unison. They seem to come from the same sort of “how does me acting normal are this it?” mentality as much of Steve Peffer’s punk output (Homostupids, Factory Men, Folded Shirt, etc.), a sort of feigned inability to participate functionally in society that generally avoids explicit content or vulgarity, or presents such in a childlike manner (I didn’t catch any swear words within Look At The Chart, for that matter). Perverts Again also seem to rep this aesthetic, and Knowso share certain sonic similarities with them, although Knowso are far more upbeat and jumpy, playing punk for the release of energy rather than a sorrowful self-shaming. “Me And My Friends’ Town” is the opener, and a modern punk hit that I strongly urge you to hear and enjoy. It’s honestly impressive that Cleveland is able to foster its own unique punk sound, particularly as the vast majority of their groups are quite good and would stand out in a lesser metropolis, Knowso included.
Florian Kupfer & Torn Hawk Hungry For Candy 12″ (Valcrond Video)
Seems like there’s been a lot of Torn Hawk activity lately, in the form of various EPs, a collection LP and even a CD-only release if I’m not mistaken. Some I still need to check out, but this collaboration with Florian Kupfer (if there’s a more European name I’ve yet to hear it) is tops, even if seasonally inappropriate. This one is artificially pumpkin-spiced the whole way through, and while I am not overly familiar with the music of Kupfer (I need to snag one of his many L.I.E.S. EPs), everything about Hungry For Candy seems to be soaked in Torn Hawk’s signature aesthetic. That is to say, a warped technicolor nostalgia of awkward teenage transitions, as if your only guide through puberty was three discounted Blockbuster rentals per weekend. I feel like Torn Hawk is probably around the same age as myself, and so many of his obscure cultural signposts knock me right in the nostalgia bone, if at least subconsciously. That’s all fine and good, but it’s the music that particularly stands out here: hazy trance pulses and frigid beats intermingle under a web of closed-circuit shoegaze effects, resulting in some sort of G-rated dark-ambient, as if there was an early ’90s Saturday morning cartoon starring Throbbing Gristle. It’s beautiful, occasionally quite funky, and aggressively Halloween themed (the “trick or treat” samples are nuts), so strap on a stinky plastic mask and see how many fun-size Snickers you can peel back before the regret starts to set in.
Leafar Legov Family 12″ (Giegling)
First off, I’ll break the bad news: Leafar Legov isn’t this person’s real name. It’s an alias used by Rafael Vogel, half of the fabulous Kettenkarussell, and this solo venture doesn’t fall far from that tree. If you’re a keen observer, you’ve noticed that I’m crazy about Kettenkarussell and last year’s Insecurity Guard, and Family makes for a stunning addendum, more sumptuous house music with subtle dub and jazz influences and a rich layer of nostalgic patina. Throughout these tracks, I’m reminded of the dusty vinyl static and cinematic warmth of Burial – Family can feel as though you’re listening through a half-remembered childhood train trip down the coast, unsure if they’re actual memories or merely dreams. Maybe a little Boards Of Canada-esque in that way too, but Vogel never gets overbearing with the sonic additives – this music remains firmly based on its reflective grooves, as cozy and meditative as wearing a shearling coat in a light evening snow. Start with the sparkling dub of “Peace By Peace”, then the romantic drama of “Our Love Is Strong” and see if you aren’t also considering getting the name “Leafar Legov” tattooed in script over your heart.
Little Movies The Little Movies Long Play LP (Wah Wah Wino)
I try to keep things fair and balanced here, but I’m not immune to bouts of fanboyism. Take the Wah Wah Wino label for instance, which released two of my favorite albums last year (Davy Kehoe and the Absolutely Wino compilation), and seeing as this Little Movies LP is the label’s third album release, I pounced on it. It’s a duo of Morgan Buckley and Ben Donoghue, and I was ready for whatever they were serving. Turns out, it’s a fairly intimate affair, one not of songs and structured rhythms but gear exploration. Little Movies Long Play was recorded in a day, and it feels like you’re right there with these two dudes, in a shag-carpeted basement somewhere in Dublin, surrounded by heaps of electronics. Listen as they tweak a few knobs over here, let a laser-zap loop spiral out, and slowly shift filters simply for their own entertainment. There’s even a track on the a-side that features one of them narrating exactly what knobs he’s turning (“now we’re at seven o’clock, now four…”), like a YouTube gear demonstration pressed to vinyl. As you can imagine, it’s not necessarily a listener-friendly record (unless you really love pointless suites of electronics burbles and arpeggiated warbles), but I’m so on board with these fellas that I’ve already listened to Little Movies far more than any person would reasonably be expected to.
Kassem Mosse Chilazon Gaiden 2xLP (Ominira)
It’s easy to appreciate a chef who works with the finest ingredients and follows classic recipes to perfection, but I’ve always admired the type who can pick four disparate items out of the fridge and whip up something amazing. German producer Kassem Mosse has always struck me as the latter, the type of guy who makes strange and simple things work that would fall apart in less capable hands. The opener “Blind Vom Licht” on this new double 12″ album is kind of a line in the sand for would-be listeners: a 4/4 thump accompanies a rapid electronic swish and the constant dribble of electronic water; nothing more. It’s a maddening zone to inhabit, like a nervous tick that can’t be quelled, and opening with it seems to imply that if you can’t hang with this, return the album now. The rest of Chilazon Gaiden oscillates across mentally-murderous low-tech repetition and a more agreeable form of deep house, usually falling somewhere in-between. It’s not for everyone, and will only make a high-stress situation worse, but I personally can’t get enough – you might undergo a little turbulence reaching the proper headspace for Chilazon Gaiden, but once you’re there the desire to remain in Mosse’s grasp will overwhelm.
David Maranha Cai-Bem LP (Tanuki)
David Maranha’s been experimentally droning it out for years now. It almost begs the question, with all these experiments, when will he provide us with the empirical results? I still need to snag a copy of his gorgeously drifting Antarctica album from a few years back, but now I have Cai-Bem, an improvised communal drone… with a twist. On Cai-Bem, Maranha enlists his pals in Portugese group Osso Exótico to switch instruments and see what happens. It’s kind of a well-worn conceit, from high-brow ensembles to low-brow punks, but the results here are a little different. Rather than exposing the unfamiliarity of each player with their newly assigned instrument (organ, tape deck, bass, drums), these players kind of step back and take a passive approach, as if all controlled by an incorporeal Ouija board floating in the room. No one makes any big moves, and Maranha covers up his lack of percussive chops by barely playing much at all, striking his borrowed kit with the consistency of any given Khanate tune. There are multiple frequencies at play, none of which overtake the rest, resulting in a disorienting float not unlike an Anla Courtis piece. In some ways, when it comes to drone all you really need is one strong finger to hold down a button or key, and while that’s probably the majority of what is happening here, Maranha and friends still capture their psychic magic, which remains unsnuffed in the face of swapped instrumentation.
Odd Hope Odd Hope LP (Fruits & Flowers)
Following their 7″ EP for the Fruits & Flowers label, Odd Hope are back with a full-length. Very nice cover art, I have to say: the smudgy, impressionist painting of a human Hamburglar in the long grass is a cheerful and fitting scene for the soft, equally-smudgy indie-pop of Odd Hope. The songs here vary in tempo and delivery, from the plodding and introspective to the upbeat and sunny, revealing the depth that simplistic indie-pop can offer when delivered from the right hands. I’m reminded of Belle & Sebastian, Brighter and 14 Iced Bears, but with a certain strain of foppishness that’s inherently American. At times, vocalist Tim Tinderholt sounds on the verge of tears, as though his lower lip is quivering to hold in heartbreak that teeters on the edge, even as he’s delivering lyrics that seem, at least on surface level, to be uplifting and positive. Indie twee like this has always struck me as kind of perverse, particularly as embodied by the genre’s super-fans, as though they are all harboring some terrible secret and covering it up with the daintiest, wussiest music around. While Odd Hope could be such a person’s new favorite band, I feel no guilt in enjoying these tunes, as they are merely the talented player, whereas it’s the game that deserves the hate.
Onion Engine Glume 7″ (no label)
Here’s some glorious DIY clatter from Onion Engine, the solo work of one Pete Warden, a Melbourne-based musician who also does time in a group called Shovels as well as Michael Beach’s backing band. I haven’t heard Shovels, but I feel like it’s safe to say that Onion Engine is my favorite thing he’s doing, as it’s a barely-musical melange of struck metal and horns alongside subtly morose and pitiful sounds that are less easily placed. The a-side “Grass Mites” is a loose, boozy march, ripe for importation on the Kye label (although I heard Kye threw in the towel – say it ain’t so!). Flip it for “Off Colour”, a horn-led jaunt that recalls an early Barnacled recital, and “Shifting House”, another two minutes of repetitive soup-pot clangor and stately trumpet. Would’ve fit perfectly on a Fuck Off Records compilation tape in 1979, but fits just as nicely in this plain brown sleeve that also includes a lavish full-color art book, reminiscent of Black Dice’s Peace In The Valley 7″. The name might’ve seemed nonsensical at first, but after a few listens I’m convinced that both an onion and an engine were somehow used in the creation of these tunes.
Razz Time Frames LP (Emotional Response)
Razz are an Oakland group (featuring members of The Talkies and The Pets, in case that means anything to you), a proudly retro-rock act that wants us all to revel in the timeless nature of feel-good rock n’ roll. Their sound encompasses early glam ala The Raspberries and Big Star up through the power-pop of the early ’80s ala Milk & Cookies and Boyfriends. It’s not an uncommon mix of flavors, high-waisted polyester and threadbare denim, and Razz approach it with reverence and sincere appreciation. It’s almost impossible now to imagine a time when music like this was considered edgy or inappropriate, as Time Frames is almost startlingly wholesome and upstanding, right down to their cover of The Turtles’ “Hot Little Hands”. When Razz really rock out, I’m almost reminded of M.O.T.O., but for the most part they’re decidedly well-behaved – I could hardly picture them tagging their band name in the backstage area of even the grodiest club. It’s enough to make Weezer look like Fury Of Five by comparison, so the next time I’m putting on a satin shirt and bell-bottoms for a frisky night out, I know what record I’m throwing on.
Tongue Party / USA Nails split 7″ (Learning Curve)
International noise-rock split 7″ here, featuring Minneapolis’s Tongue Party and London’s USA Nails. Tongue Party kick it off nicely with some fairly scummy-sounding noise-rock… I’m reminded of those rare moments when Cavity would play fast, with a strong dose of Mayyors’ sandpapery delivery. They actually play a lot of different notes, but something about the overall presentation makes it feel like proper knucklehead rock, like listening to KARP while watching a montage of car crashes, rather than anything brainy or sophisticated. Even though they’re a good twelve hours of air travel away from Tongue Party, USA Nails have such a similar delivery that one could easily believe it’s the work of the same band, just with a different member taking over vocal duties. Maybe a little more reverb overall in USA Nails’ tank, too, but they’re also flying off the rails with manic drumming and a vocalist whose brows remain perma-furrowed. Overall I’d give Tongue Party the slight edge, but maybe you’ve just caught me in a particularly patriotic mood.
Total Control Laughing At The System 12″ (Alter)
Holy moly, are we ever blessed: a new Total Control record! This phenomenal group has been taunting us with their presence for years now, never quite giving us enough (shows, records, social media events, collectible photosets, etc.) – even Australians have been bemoaning their lack of availability. So even if Laughing At The System was merely a repeat of the moody, synth-laced post-punk of their past, I’d be happy, but Total Control are far too restless and genius to tread water, even really good water. Laughing At The System pushes the band further out there, to bizarre musical realms I didn’t know existed – something like a glinting late ’70s new-age lounge infiltrated by ’90s alt-pop psychedelia, blazing Buzzcocksian punk and the peculiar spark of perfection buried on the fifth LP in a Vinyl On Demand boxset of maligned eastern European cold-wave synth? Each song is a fascinating, charming nugget, pop to their core no matter how jacked-up the Total Control boys insist on behaving, right down to both versions of the title track. (“Laughing At The System Pt. 1” is laced with synthetic pesticides, whereas “Laughing At The System Pt. 2” is dirty, raw and organic.) All inexplicably released on a cutting-edge British noise label with eye-popping artwork, of course, just in case the rest of Laughing At The System started to make any discernible sense to us mortal humans.
Trevor Toy Militia / Go Quick 7″ (no label)
Most people don’t realize that the secret to Total Control has always been James Vinciguerra, whose precisely-demented punk drumming and electronic programming are the reason we all can’t stop tapping along to “Carpet Rash” or “Retiree”. And like most musical geniuses, he can’t contain his efforts to one band or medium, as he has been making electronic music by himself for a few years now, most recently under the curious name of Trevor. Even more curious, this 7″ is pure hardcore jungle not unlike late ’90s Venetian Snares. “Toy Militia” rips into high-speed breaks with detuned chords fluttering throughout, like a choir of low-resolution angels trying to avoid the percussive artillery. “Go Quick” opens like a free-jazz tune-up that slowly reveals its digital properties, reminiscent of Squarepusher’s violent deconstruction of jazz, but never develops past a murky field of electronics, calling to mind American Tapes more than Planet Mu. It’s my understanding that Vinciguerra pressed this one himself and doesn’t expect anyone to actually buy it – I implore you to prove him wrong!
Vultures United I Still Feel Cold 2xLP (Black Numbers / Outsider Art)
I Still Feel Cold is the third full-length release from Southern California’s Vultures United, and if you like this band, you’ve lucked out because there’s a whole lot of music on this double LP! I guess if you’re going to do it, you might as well do it, and Vultures United clearly have suffered no loss for songwriting. The first LP is fairly direct and high-energy melodic hardcore, not unlike Rohnert Park-era Ceremony with a touch of At The Drive-In and Title Fight. The second LP was billed as more of the “experimental” album, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t sound a lot like the first – don’t expect Basil Kirchin-esque soundscapes, but rather more punchy, melodic hardcore, except some of the songs are a bit more drawn out with longer build-ups and breakdowns. Vultures United certainly do no harm to the genre with I Still Feel Cold, but I have to wonder if they couldn’t have had a round-table discussion and trimmed things down to one single LP of the cream of the crop. Although maybe I Still Feel Cold was originally slated as a triple LP and they already did just that.
Wax Chattels Stay Disappointed 7″ (Captured Tracks)
Admittedly it’s been a while since I checked in with anything on the Captured Tracks label – seems like eons ago that they were releasing DIY-screened Blank Dogs and Dum Dum Girls 12″s, and nearly as long since becoming synonymous with indie bedroom projects that move to Brooklyn and become “real” bands in search of publishing deals and free sneakers (the indie-rock Pinocchio story). Regardless of Captured Tracks’ long strange journey, they released this one-sided, one-songed 7″ EP by Wax Chattels, apparently not completely for sale but something to be passed around? Who knows. I’m surprised they couldn’t wait for Wax Chattels to at least write two songs, but “Stay Disappointed” is pretty cool nonetheless. It features rapid-fire bass playing (bassist Amanda Cheng could easily race DeeDee Ramone to the finish line) and drums that are so precise as to sound artificial, with a far more relaxed vocalist who plays a little keyboard for good measure. I’m reminded of The Native Cats, at least if their vocal delivery remained the same while the music came through at twice the speed, although this is merely one song and this manic tempo could be the deviation, not the standard. It comes with a note from label owner Mike Sniper insisting that “you have to see this band” – sure, fly me to Auckland to DJ a Flying Nun anniversary party and catching Wax Chattels will be at the top of my list, too!
Yogurt Brain The Lemon Tree EP 7″ (Orifice Dorm)
Oakland’s Yogurt Brain are doing their darndest to be accidentally filed in the black-metal bin, thanks to the menacing grim reaper on the cover alongside an illegible rendition of the EP’s title, The Lemon Tree. Don’t expect even the slightest hint of metallic aggression, though, as Yogurt Brain play sweet and fey indie, and unabashedly so. Vocalist and band mastermind Stephen Oriolo sings in a softly nasal high pitch over these poppy tunes, recalling Kyle Thomas’s Happy Birthday project, or perhaps in kindred spirit, Ween. Generally speaking this sort of thing is a little too intentionally wimpy/jokey for my tastes, a little too cutesy-clean, but I cannot deny the prowess displayed by Yogurt Brain across these four tunes. There’s plenty of nice guitar interplay and the title track in particular warms up the room, not unlike Beachwood Sparks at their prime. If it ends up flipping a few Bathory fans into jangle-pop, the world will be a better place.
Bi-Hour Regional Indifference LP (no label)
Bi-Hour are a duo out of Hobart, Tasmania, and I’ll be damned if they sure don’t sound like one, proudly weird and out of step with any sort of mainstream behavior. This ambitious twenty-track album covers a lot of ground, none of which could comfortably be considered normal, even by indie-rock standards. A track of minimalist drums and vocals recalling a relaxed Ed Schrader’s Music Beat will segue into a dramatic synth-laden carol, then shift into an inside joke that only amuses the two guys making the music. There is apparently a concept running through the entire album (maybe some sort of testament to the duo’s lifelong friendship?), but I’d lose my mind trying to catch sight of that tiny thread in such a big pile of ideas. More than anything else, I’m reminded of that weird half-musical 49 Americans LP, in that these tracks all feel like they were meant to be performed on stage to a captive audience, with the band members quickly changing into funny sunglasses and hats, Carrot Top style, when the cheap electro-funk of “Fridge” kicks in. There’s a startling lack of self-consciousness at work here, perhaps because they understand that the biggest audience they’ll ever possibly annoy probably won’t reach into the triple digits. Or maybe they’re bold in spite of that, knowing they’ll have to encounter members of their crowd at the market or bank the next day. If you wish you investigate further, there is a video clip for “All Work And No Facial Piercings Makes Jack A Dull Boy” on YouTube. I have a feeling you do.
Death Of Lovers The Acrobat LP (Dais)
Based on the backstory, I was already skeptical about Death of Lovers: members of shoegaze-grunge-etc. rockers Nothing (whose records never connected with me, although I respect their tireless promotional and self-branding abilities) doing a fey goth-rock side-project. Just what we don’t need more of, right? Well explain to me then why I’m sitting here all confused, swishing around and tapping my Crocs to these indulgent and unabashed cuts of ’80s new-wave pop-rock worship. It opens with the single, “Orphans Of The Smog”, which is so simple and easy I’m shocked it hasn’t already been written decades ago, but none of that negates the fact that it’s so good. I like my New Order worship to be sturdy and simplified, not expounded upon, and this track pretty much immediately settled into my head and has yet to leave, much to my surprise. The rest of the record takes other specific and timely inspirations, most notably Tears For Fears and Duran Duran. Much of the record sounds like a particularly forelorn emo boy taking out his grief on his parents’ copy of Rio, with all the precision and delicacy it requires. If you want to hear that point being hit (and I sincerely do), The Acrobat delivers the knockout blow. The only remaining matter at hand is which of the seven vinyl color variations will you choose?
Avalon Emerson Whities 013 12″ (Whities)
I’m doing my best to listen to new Avalon Emerson music without immediately comparing it to her 2016 cut “The Frontier”, possibly the greatest instrumental techno track of the decade (yes, I went there). It’s a feat no one should be expected to repeat, so I’ve been trying to pull back and listen to Whities 013 with untainted ears. It’s been pretty easy, actually, as a-side “One More Fluorescent Rush” is distinct and vibrant, a friendly new world of its own. This cut has a unique gravitational pull, like one of those gas-giant planets whose surfaces you could never actually stand on. I’ve always wondered, what do you do instead, just endlessly tumble around in all that gross gas? That’s the feeling I get from this cut, although this gas isn’t gross, it’s lavender and birthday cake and rosewood scented, all thanks to an endlessly tracking trance arpeggio that keeps promising a drop or crescendo (but none ever arrives). “Finally Some Common Ground” is the flip and it feels like something I’d hear on a Perlon comp and immediately check the track ID to hopefully locate more (case in point: Dandy Jack’s “Show You My Tent”). It’s light and intricate and soothing and strange, leaving me feeling as if I tried to vape the a-side’s gas instead of merely politely sniffing.
Lars Finberg Moonlight Over Bakersfield LP (In The Red)
After nine albums owned and operated by The Intelligence, Lars Finberg steps out under his own name for this new one. I wonder if The Intelligence is done, or if this is just more of a personal pet project than The Intelligence (which I thought was also a personal pet project, or started out as one at least?). Maybe he just wants to prove that not all rockers named Lars are lame. Regardless, I’ve been a fan of Finberg’s since his A Frames days, and The Intelligence’s Boredom And Terror got repeated play in my room throughout the ’00s, so let’s check into this new one. On general review, Moonlight Over Bakersfield seems pretty similar to an Intelligence record: jumpy basslines, noisy synths on the brink of failure, taut drum patterns, inclinations toward bizarre sonic motifs while still retaining a firm pop core. Interestingly, Ty Segall sings on a lot of these songs (you know, just in case he’s not involved in enough other stuff), and it adds a smoother mid-range to the excitable yelp I’m used to hearing from Finberg. Some tunes recall Beck, others Hubble Bubble, but they’re all a part of Finberg’s musical vocabulary, even the song with vocoder vocals. Lucky for us, we don’t have to travel to Bakersfield to hear them!
Golden Teacher No Luscious Life LP (Golden Teacher)
How are Golden Teacher gonna put out an album called No Luscious Life that’s as luscious and full of life as this? This mobile party unit has been transmitting their eclectic, feel-good jams for a few years now and this is their first proper full-length album, a well-deserved dive into much of what Golden Teacher has to offer. Big percussion (both acoustic and electronic), universal rhythms, outer-space synths, neo-disco prancing and the downtown cool of Liquid Liquid, all hosted by two fiery vocalists who seem to be locked in a competition to determine once and for all who is sexiest (I’d declare it a draw). For all the players involved (at least six?), Golden Teacher don’t overstuff their grooves, instead preferring to keep things as stripped down as possible while still giving everyone something to do. Maybe one guy gets to play the Funkadelic bass on “The Kazimier”, then sparingly twists the echo knob on “What Fresh Hell Is This?”, for example. That sense of communal sharing and collective participation (the “one nation under a groove” philosophy) is strong with Golden Teacher, and if No Luscious Life doesn’t infect you with that feeling, you’re wearing too much protection.
GŪTARA KYÅŒ GŪTARA KYÅŒ 10″ (Slovenly / Mondo Mongo)
To celebrate their 200th release, Slovenly went a little wild with this one, a 10″ record with a big 45 hole (never saw that before!), filled with screaming manic garage-punk from Kobe, Japan’s GŪTARA KYÅŒ. Might sound a little Third Man-ish, but that’s the extent of the gimmickry, as GŪTARA KYÅŒ rip through these tunes as if they’re crunched for time, only taking a brief respite from the speed as they start the second side. It reminded me of Fuck On The Beach at first, and not simply because I’m racist, but because I had the same immediate concern listening to GŪTARA KYÅŒ as I did when I first heard Fuck On The Beach: this can’t possibly be the right speed, can it? Well it is – GŪTARA KYÅŒ’s snare drum is pitched to a red-hot ping, the guitars are a distorted mess of treble and feedback, and the screaming seems to come from the back of the throat, teetering on the edge of a frequency suited for canines. I’d say the only thing missing is one band member in a tight n’ skinny long-sleeve shirt that has thin black and white horizontal stripes (this punk shirt could be a genre of its own), but nope, they’ve got one of those on the cover!
Helena Hauff Have You Been There, Have You Seen It 12″ (Ninja Tune)
Helena Hauff is a true Acid Queen, noted for her cunning and brainy DJ sets the world over. I’ve only had one conceivable chance to see her perform thus far and I blew it, though, so my admiration comes from her productions, particularly 2015’s Discreet Desires, which more or less redefined what an album of acid techno could sound like (dynamic, sensuous, rich, fleeting, etc.). I didn’t blink before smashing the PayPal button on this new Ninja Tune 12″, and after sitting with it for a few weeks, I’m reluctant to admit that I wish I perused some online samples first. There are four tracks here, and they’re all fairly basic and unassuming forms of updated acid techno, like Drexiya remixed for a Hospital Productions anniversary soirée. The first side plays out without much to grab onto; it’s the first cut on the flip, “Continuez Mon Enfant Vous Serez Traité En Conséquence”, that really starts to dip its manicured fingers into the fresh cement, but it might just sound particularly raw and gnarled by comparison to the others here. Maybe it’s not too late to trade this one in for Hauff’s A Tape vinyl reissue, as I never snagged that and I’m hankering for something gritty and dark as opposed to predictable and pretty good.
Heavy Metal Smash Criticism Smash Optimism Smash Arachnophobia LP (Static Age)
Yeah, you heard me: the band called themselves “Heavy Metal”. What could that even mean in this day and age? Well, the hilariously-titled Smash Criticism Smash Optimism Smash Arachnophobia is one of two albums Heavy Metal released in 2017, the other on Harbinger Sound, who put out ear-piercing noise until hitting the royalty jackpot with Seaford Mods. Heavy Metal open this one with a funny sample into what appears to be a serious electro-pop anthem. They follow that with a cretinous punk stomp right out of Good Throb’s back alley and then a twitchy post-punk ramble that recalls the mellower side of Priests, at least until the cartoonish vocals kick in, like a catchy Wat Tyler nugget (and the song is titled “Dingo Ate Your Baby”). Dizzy yet? Somehow, while clearly intent on delivering the mightiest clusterfuck of a “punk” record possible, Heavy Metal achieved greatness… it’s simply because their songs, varied and idiotic as they may be, are all quite catchy, raw, fun and memorable, and their interludes are hilarious and well-timed. Now can someone just tell me what the cover art is a parody of? Some classic rave record, right? It’s killing me.
Ice Balloons Fiesta LP (Volar)
Warmed my heart a little to see Ice Balloons described as a “Brooklyn noise-rock supergroup” – I figured everyone had already gone off and started their solo techno projects at this point, that noise-rock was merely a distant object in the rear-view mirror. But alas, Ice Balloons are here, featuring members of bands as diverse as TV On The Radio, Samiam, Surfbort and Fuckemos (to name but a few), and be assured they sound like none of that. Rather, they have the noise-drenched psych spirals of Gasp, the anthemic weirdness of Les Savy Fav and the mammoth chug of Shellac in their toolshed. They seem pretty comfortable and cozy with what they’ve decided to do, as these songs all kinda drag out a bit, content to rumble with long interludes or outros; to play things a notch slower than, say, Metz; to look inward rather than outward. I prefer more of a direct or upbeat or brutal approach, particularly if you never actually come around to bringing forth any sort of memorable hook (those are in short supply here), or at least a little more energy… something to make me willing to stand while listening instead of looking for a chair. Not going to be spinning Fiesta far into the future, but if these six(?) friends wanna get sonically lifted in their practice space once or twice a week, I offer my full support.
Liquids Heart Beats True EP 7″ (Digital Regress)
Been considering an all-Liquids cleanse for the new year: they seem to be one of the last bands standing out of that great burst of NWI punk in the past few years (either that or the other acts have stopped releasing records and posting their demos to YouTube in an effort to achieve a more extreme form of hermeticism), but that’s okay, bands come and go, and I’m going to enjoy Liquids while they’re here. As expected, their seven tunes here are great, ultra-caffeinated snot-punk, propelled by drums that are far quicker than they have any right to be and great wiry guitar lines. They touch on early ’80s teenaged pop-punk and driving proto-hardcore (they certainly maintain a Middle Class-worthy level of mania), firing off rapid shots somewhere between the rotten punk grooves of The Lewd and the hysterical dorkery of Adrenalin OD. I’ll never connect with people who love sorting through Spotify playlists, because all I wanna do is physically handle glorious slabs of nervous punk angst like Heart Beats True and listen to them one at a time in my own private comfort.
John Maus Screen Memories LP (Ribbon Music)
Few things are valued in today’s indie underground like a true weirdo – not someone who desperately wishes they were strange (of which there are countless hordes), but an actual freak that couldn’t pretend to be normal if they tried. Like John Maus, for instance: he lives in some remote frozen field in the upper Midwest, is a nuclear physicist or something, has a bowl cut, and methodically puts out albums of very specific-sounding retro synth-rock. And apparently he screams like a maniac at his shows, which are essentially karaoke performances (and I still need to witness it personally to wrap my head around the idea, as his vocals on record are muted puffs, not veiny screams). I loved his last album, We Must Become…, because not only was it distinct, nearly each song was an alternate-reality hit. I was excited for Screen Memories, and after a few listens, both engaged and distracted, I’m just not feeling it the same way. I know he’s found his sound and is sticking with it, but something about this album feels like it’s all the same exact frequency, and his vocals are echoed and buried just enough that I have to strain to understand the few lyrics there are. “Touchdown” has a cool Knight Rider vibe, and I’d love to watch Marshawn Lynch twerk to it, but ultimately Screen Memories is a nice-sounding, surprise-free record that lacks the memories Maus promised. I’ll keep listening though, because even without exceptional tunes, there’s no denying that the Maus sound remains sweet.
Dan Melchior Road Not Driving 12″ (Ever/Never)
Anytime’s the right time for some new Dan Melchior, and the benevolent folks over at Ever/Never recently hooked it up with this stately six-song EP. He’s got a simple but highly effective approach to the first few tracks: repetitive mega-fuzz guitar licks, some light percussive accompaniment, sharp vocal lines and a slight wisp of audio detritus. I can almost see a parallel here to Oren Ambarchi’s use of classic riffage on his Stacte Karaoke recordings, but Melchior dices it into easily digestible pop nuggets. Flip it over and the mood has taken a turn – the next two tunes sound like Melchior performing from the darkened underside of some passing asteroid, transmitting his thoughts while coasting through a vast expanse of nothingness. And it’s catchy, too! He returns to Earth for closer “Rd Nt Drvng”, the sorta title-track that cruises with a nice manic pace, especially considering that the percussion is nothing more than some wobbly sci-fi effect. More top-shelf lo-fi skewered pop from a man whose well seemingly never runs dry.
Monotrope Unifying Receiver LP (New Atlantis)
Three massive, imposing columns greet us on the cover of Monotrope’s Unifying Receiver, grand in their majesty and apparent human creation. That seems to be the effect Monotrope wants their instrumental post-rock / math-rock to have on the listener as well, and while they are fine purveyors of their chosen profession, those big gray pillars stir my emotions a shade more than Monotrope’s orchestrations. That’s not to say they aren’t a talented group – this quartet (drums, bass, guitar, guitar) take their grand and sweeping rock music seriously, shifting between intricate riffs and varied tempos as thought it were automatic. Their songs aren’t playful or messy in that “is it or isn’t it improv?” sorta way; if Monotrope ever smiled in the studio, it’s because they nailed one of these lengthy tracks in a single take, not because there is any inherent amusement in these tracks. It’s music built for seriously nodding one’s approval at, and maybe that’s why Unifying Receiver doesn’t connect with me (much like the genre of long-form instrumental rock in general): it’s serious and stoic but doesn’t really convey much beyond that. Or maybe I’m just a numbskull who needs to hear someone occasionally scream over music like this for it to have any lasting appeal.
Mutant Video Vanity Of Life LP (Iron Lung)
Didn’t know much about this one going into it, but you can never go wrong with Iron Lung, right? I was hoping for some grisly hardcore from a run-down cabin in the woods (a sonic mix of Mindless Mutant and Sex/Vid, perhaps?), but wait, didn’t Vanity also name their first record Vanity Of Life? (Editor’s note: it was Vain In Life, but close enough, beloved critic.) Anyway, forget everything I just said, because Mutant Video is pure slo-mo sludge industrial. It’s clearly coming from a hardcore background (something about it just sounds like people who used to play blast-beats, not “dark folk” on lutes), and as far as menacing, harsh electro-doom goes, it’s quite nice. I’m reminded of Black Mayonnaise (their TTSSATTSR CD is a landmark, I swear), with a touch of Wolf Eyes circa “Stabbed In The Face”, some Hunting Lodge, and a strong similarity to the more pensive and creepy moments in Pig Heart Transplant’s catalog, who I’ve learned shares members with Mutant Video. And the second track seems like it barely avoids infringing on the X-Files theme before churning into an early Haus Arafna-style furnace burn. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna let Vanity Of Life rip while I try to figure out which one of my friends on this camping trip is the murderer.
Nike Flea Bytes 7″ (Pocket Producer)
Seems like there’s been an influx of corporate brands borrowed as band names… did Tyvek start that? I don’t necessarily mind it, but I think it works best as a one-off joke (ala the Wal-Mart logo on the Prurient / Panicsville split 8″, or James Ferraro’s brutal Best Buy appropriation on Last American Hero). And hey, maybe Nike are a one-off joke, who knows! They’re another garage-friendly band living in Austin (they only have garages not basements in Austin, right?), and they’re a fine little dose of G-rated fun. I thought I was smart when I listened to “Flea Bytes” and immediately thought of Nodzzz, but Pocket Producer’s press-sheet mentions Nodzzz too, so nevermind! Maybe a touch of Versatile Newts on the flip too, very much in the vein of “the lighter side of” the UK DIY sound, Thin Yoghurts and all. Kinda off-putting that they’re wearing Adidas and Vans on the cover, though – maybe the initial sponsorship care package hasn’t arrived yet?
Not Waving Good Luck 2xLP (Diagonal)
As much as I enjoy his music, it’s been easy for me to overlook Not Waving, as I’ve kind of mentally filed him away as “Powell Jr.” in my mind. Their musical approaches are certainly quite similar, but based on Powell’s two New Beta releases this year, and Not Waving’s newest album, Good Luck, it seems as though the pupil’s talent may have surpassed the master. At twelve tracks across two LPs, there’s a lot to dig into here, but Not Waving makes it easy, repeatedly cutting to the chase and dishing out cut after cut of mangled EBM laced with electro grooves and a healthy sense of pranksterism. Which is to say, it’s very much still of Powell’s MO, but Not Waving doesn’t seem as fidgety or restless – he builds up some sort of mutant electroclash ripper over the course of three minutes, doses it with a hilarious little sample, and moves on. Unlike Powell’s recent recordings, Not Waving seems eager to give us what we want. “Where Are We” is particularly undeniable, as Montreal’s Marie Davidson renders the mundane into an icy refrain that feels like a dance-floor call-to-arms, like a noise-scrubbed version of Powell’s “Frankie”. Now more than ever, Not Waving feels like an artist working with similar tools from a similar Diagonal Records mindset but streamlining and trademarking it as his own. He didn’t invent this wheel, but Good Luck spins on its own power.
Poizon Church Is Poizon LP (Twistworthy)
Had pretty high hopes for this one – funny spelling twist on a classic band name, cool title (reminds me of Talk Is Poison but with a relatable sentiment), all with a big bothered baby greeting you on the cover. Not sure what I expected exactly, besides it being good, and while Poizon didn’t force me to re-evaluate my life due to their sonic superiority, it’s a fairly fine slice of raucous, blues-inspired grunge-punk. I don’t think I ever really listened to the Mudhoney side-project Monkeywrench, but this is what I’d imagine them to sound like: loose n’ flailing garage rock that accidentally unplugs itself at least once per live show, perhaps dressed like Reservoir Dogs but going crazy anyway, musically not very risky but perfectly fun for clinking back a beer or four. Maybe a touch of teenage punk spit in there too, like Redd Kross or Peer Pressure lurking in the back of the basement, picking up half-smoked cigarettes and re-lighting them. Pretty cool overall, especially if you’re in the mindset of low-level crime and tomfoolery and in need of a soundtrack. They should tour with Whiteznake!
Regis The Master Side 12″ (Blackest Ever Black)
Regis has been an ever-present force for the Blackest Ever Black label, releasing an early 12″ with various appearances since, always offering a revered and unassailable touch of blackety blackestness. I figured it was time I checked in with him again, and this smart-looking 12″ doesn’t disappoint. “The Master Side (Version 1)” chugs along on the slippery hide of an acid worm, quite flexible yet still equipped with the standard sonic force of a Regis production. It essentially holds that pattern until fading into a tasteful violin concerto, as if Regis was so moved by his own techno prowess that he had to grab the nearest violin and weep all over it. “The Master Side (Version 2)” opens with some abstract electronic muttering before bringing back another heavyweight arpeggio, chased by a mighty snap. It moves less like a high-powered Regis commuter train and more like the agile grooves of Afrikan Sciences or Surgeon, but it’s still covered in soot and misery. Very heavy and enjoyable, and the cover art / center label combo of some sort of cybernetic sperm cell entering a digital maze gives me plenty to mull over while listening.
Shimmer Shimmer LP (Drop Medium)
Much like the Dog LP that also came out on Drop Medium not too long ago, my initial thought upon hearing this Shimmer LP was “man, I wish Load Records was still around to release and help elevate this cool gnarly noise-punk band!”. On further thought, I do miss Load, but I should be thankful that Drop Medium are doing the good work, and if there’s any righteousness on Earth, Shimmer will get the shine they’re due, as they’re quite fantastic. Their music is primarily deconstructed rock somewhere between US Maple, DNA, Coughs and Royal Trux – guitar, bass and drums all trying to hobble around on crutches in the same bent time signature, eventually making sense to the listener upon repeated exposure. It sounds great, but the vocalist really kicks things up a notch, screaming with complete disregard for vocal cord safety. Imagine if Courtney Love’s throat actually had a throat of its own, and that inner throat was dealing with a nasty case of strep, and you’re close to the vocalist’s sandpapery tones. It would be pretty sweet even if Shimmer didn’t know how to craft actual songs, but there’s a surprising amount of staying power in their anti-hooks: check “High Gloss” and “Hold It”, and see if you can keep from singing along to the auctioneer-style intro of “Heavenly”. Recommended!
Spray Paint and Ben Mackie Friendly Moving Man / Dumpster Buddies 7″ (12XU)
So the story is told: Spray Paint were in their studio, working on their eighth album of the year, when Ben Mackie, he being the singer of one of Australia’s most unfortunate bands, The Cuntz, stumbled down the cellar steps in search of vape juice and wifi. An unexpected friendship was immediately struck, and they recorded two songs together, immortalized on this 7″ released by the one label you can trust to release every single Austin-related musical entity, 12XU. It’s a 45, but I swore “Friendly Moving Man” was spinning too fast at first, as the drums are taut and faster than acceptable, the guitars buzz uncomfortably and even Mackie’s relaxed muttering seems slightly agitated. Maybe he wishes they played it slower. “Dumpster Buddies” is nearly as frantic, with a cool stuttered-snare rhythm that eventually collapses before building back up into something. Mackie seems unfazed by it all, as if he merely agreed to join the group in order to gain access to Spray Paint’s fridge and couch for a night or two. Whatever his motives, the results are win/win.
The Trashies The Octagon LP (Fine Concepts)
The Trashies should’ve named this record …Are Still Around?, because I had no idea they were, did you? They struck me as very much of the late ’00s era, but shows what I know. I thought I remembered them as a snotty garage-punk band, but they’ve really decomposed here (The Composties?), and it’s a great fit. True weirdo punk, with songs just as likely to use slide-whistles and bicycle horns as guitars and drums, full of amusing gibberish lyrics. Very much in the vein of Folded Shirt and Sportscreme, and so damn Midwestern oddball-ish that I’m wondering if the group didn’t relocate to Cleveland from their far more respectable Seattle residences. This sorta thing can fail pretty hard if it’s not funny, or at the very least entertaining, but The Trashies are fully committed, delivering a song called “Heavy Door” about a heavy door with all the gusto it deserves, at times recalling Factums if they weren’t a Siltbreeze band but a Tim & Eric sketch. Let’s just hope their current mutated state is irreversible, or that the antidote is hidden far away.
Uniform No Trending LP (State Laughter / Scavenger Of Death)
Is there room for two Uniforms in essentially the same underground punk community? Apparently so, says this Uniform (of Atlanta, not the Sacred Bones industrial-rockers). I bet both bands enjoy lots of the same things, like sitting on a worn-out couch listening to No Trend, for example, but thankfully even the untrained ear would be able to tell the two apart almost immediately. This Uniform is a morose, vaguely sinister post-punk group, very much in the vein of Parquet Courts, Minneapolis Uranium Club and Whatever Brains. Uniform seem less quirky, though, or at least less prone to fits of zany behavior, with more of a menacing edge, like the post-goth pre-grunge of Live Skull or Nice Strong Arm. Of course, I’m fairly certain Uniform is sharing rowdy bills (and probably band members) with labelmates like Nurse and GG King, so it makes sense that they maintain an energetic approach even if they are decidedly not playing hardcore. They certainly kept my interest with No Trending, and I hope the two Uniforms continue to co-exist in peace, a lesson we could all learn from.
The Zoomers Exist LP (Mighty Mouth Music)
I was starting to wonder if the Mighty Mouth empire had run out of ultra-obscurities to be reissued, but this Zoomers LP arrived and it’s a blast worthy of vinylization and more (a commemorative plate set would be nice). It’s amazing Exist never saw the light of day in its time, because it blasts out like a fully-realized DIY glam-punk dynamo, bursting with personality, melody and irreverence. The Zoomers were from Baton Rouge, and probably mostly if not totally unaware of groups like Homosexuals and Reptile Ranch, but they certainly fit right in, a smooth mix of Modern Lovers, Wire, Roxy Music and whatever weirdness was naturally occurring in their own brains. This is the sort of loosely-punk music that only seems to grow when no one is watching, with a band of culturally-isolated oddballs coming together to brew up their own small dose of magic. Very thankful I’m able to enjoy them now, as well as marvel at their haircuts and necklines on the cover (give the standing guy a dangly earring and I’d believe it if you told me he was in Hank Wood & The Hammerheads). Mighty Mouth recently reissued the Zoomers 7″ (also reviewed with praise in these pages), and two of those songs (including the sensational “From The Planet Moon”) are included on Exist, so I’d certainly recommend you go after this one first and foremost – the most essential non-essential reissue of the year!
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