Ausmuteants / Housewives split 7″ (Total Punks)
Leave it to Total Punk to give the split 7″ format a worthy go, pulling it from certain obsolescence and placing it in the hands of these two bug-eyed Aussie punk bands. And of all things, these groups put a fresh spin on the split, with each band writing a song for the other to also perform, sharing the chords and lyrics. It’s like remixing the way nature originally intended! I don’t know which band wrote “Brown Out” and “I Wanna Sedate You”, but on Ausmuteants’ side, they rip some silly keys and pubescent male vocals into a frenzy, like Dow Jones & The Industrials if they acknowledged the Ramones. Housewives are notably heavier (come to think of it, does anyone play bass in Ausmuteants?) and slightly more generic because of it; pretty solid, but easily mistakable for Constant Mongrel or Bits Of Shit if you aren’t already a sharp-eared fan. Cool concept and execution all around, though, and I would like to extend the most impossible of challenges to Total Punk: release a great split 10″. I dare you!
Broken Talent Rules No One LP (Florida’s Dead)
Much like its general population, Florida’s punk rock contingent has always been uniquely strange. It’s like they figure out at an earlier age than the rest of us that life is full of despair and meaningless car crashes, either that or they inebriate themselves hard enough as to ignore this truth. Anyway, Broken Talent are a particularly peculiar chapter in Florida’s punk history, with only a couple tapes and a 7″ to their name until this retrospective vinyl LP. They’re dubbed “Florida’s answer to Flipper”, and while it may be more overt than most comparisons, seeing as they clearly acknowledge their love of Flipper in the detailed (and highly entertaining) liner notes, it’s a fitting one. So often, bands compared to Flipper get the noisy damage right, but ignore Flipper’s inherent pop core; Flipper were clearly trying to write sunshiney pop anthems, just in their own nihilistic way. These songs fall somewhere between Flipper and The Penetrators (it’s the hummable garage-based ineptitude), resulting in an authentic dose of outsider goofball-punk with spoken vocals, live show antagonism and a general disgust for their immediate surroundings. I had never heard of Broken Talent before this LP, and now I can’t picture life without them.
Chaos Echoes Transient 2xLP (Nuclear War Now! Productions)
Checked out Chaos Echoes on a whim, as you probably know that I’m not an ardent Nuclear War Now! subscriber (although I am a big fan of many of their releases). Anyway, this is some “experimental” French black-metal / death-metal group, and to my ears, it’s very nearly the best possible result of what such a genre designation could imply! It’s a sprawling album, but never dull, shifting coyly while maintaining a bleak atmosphere and oppressive sonic themes throughout. The guitars are almost constantly at full-throttle black-metal speed, but the drums are often not there at all, resulting in this feeling of heavy weightlessness, like floating a few hundred feet deep in the ocean. You’re impervious to gravity but your chest is about to cave in, you know? Anyway, they build it up for a while (the vocals don’t really show up until the third track!), transitioning into a meaty two-chord riff I’d expect out of Midnight or one of the simpler Pantera songs or something. It all spirals from there (excellent use of strings, drones, ambient horror, etc.), until the 4th side turns into what I’d imagine The Psychic Paramount would sound like if they tried their hands at death-metal (which absolutely annihilates, I should clarify). I don’t listen to enough experimental black-metal to confirm that Transient is a masterpiece, but I can confidently proclaim that it’s one of the best guitar-based albums I’ve heard this year.
Lucy Cliché Drain Down 12″ (Noise In My Head)
The name Lucy Cliché might ring a bell, as she was one of the two founders of Naked On The Vague, interviewed in these very pages some years ago. Like nearly every experimental punk person I know, she’s gone techno now too, operating under the Lucy Cliché moniker as the name “Lucy” is already in use by some Euro techno dude (as are most female first names these days). While Naked On The Vague initially reveled in their amateur musicality (they taped down Casio keys and awkwardly strummed guitars like no other), Cliché seems quite adept at making muscular and squirming acid-techno / electro from the very start. These four tracks thump with passion, like Profligate with sunglasses on, or perhaps something recent on the Diagonal label were it layered and calculated as opposed to live and free-flowing. I’m getting a lot of mileage out of these tracks, both in the kitchen and in the comfort of my personal lounge, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my enjoyment of Drain Down extends to the dance-floor someday. It’s a natural progression.
Drab Majesty Careless LP (Dais)
It’s about time that a sexy clown entered the gothy synth-pop foray, so here’s LA’s Drab Majesty. It’s the solo project of Andrew Clinco, of alt-rockers Marriages fame(?), but he goes by Deb Demure here, guitar strapped-on and folding table of gear neatly laid out. I have yet to see Drab Majesty perform, but unless the live show involves fire-dancers and a 3D video installation, it’s hard to hear this as anything but another good-not-great take on The Cure with Minimal Wave compilation overtones. Think of a more ethereal, guitar-based Cold Cave, or a calm and restrained John Maus giving you a guided tour of The Crow OST and you’re close to what Drab Majesty is serving. I generally like it, although I’m a handful of listens in and have yet to recall any particular track or musical motif a couple hours later (okay, “The Heiress” on the b-side is pretty catchy). The center stickers are some of the best-designed center stickers I’ve seen in a while, though, and while that is certainly admirable of Dais (I hope they won’t be pissed if I eventually steal their concept here), if your center stickers are more attention-grabbing than your music, it might be time to spend less time at Sephora and more time attempting to craft unforgettable goth-pop anthems.
Golden Pelicans Oldest Ride Longest Line LP (Total Punk)
Following last year’s self-titled debut album, Golden Pelicans are back with more beaten-up garage-punk paeans and cool hand-drawn, tattoo-style cover art. Essentially nothing has changed since Golden Pelicans checked in last, their songs still pumping like New Bomb Turks on cruise control or Dogs’ “Slash Your Face” after downing a sixer. Great tunes, but I think Golden Pelicans’ greatness comes from their vocalist Erik Grincewicz, who sounds like John Reis performing AC/DC karaoke (and winning the cash prize). Grincewicz could be reading off Fox News transcripts in lieu of actual lyrics and I’d still find him to be a charmingly mean authority figure, like your first boss at the feed mill who taught you what hard work was really all about. Have the rest of these garage-punk bands ever laid blacktop? Probably not.
Green Gums Black Tongue EP 12″ (Diagonal)
I always try to keep one eye on the Diagonal label at all times, as Powell’s taste aligns with mine more often than not and he’s always a few steps ahead of the pack. I dug the two Bronze Teeth 12″s that came out last year, and now here’s Green Gums, which is either the solo project of Bronze Teeth’s Dominic Butler or just another alias for Bronze Teeth entirely – I leave it up to you to unlock the mystery. Anyway, this one is pretty much in line with Bronze Teeth’s style, which is to say unrelenting acid-techno warm-ups full of sweaty-browed rigor and subtle manipulation. I dig this stuff for sure, but something about Black Tongue feels less like a well-planned sonic venture and more like someone messing around with cool synthesizers and drum machines in their basement while you sit and watch, waiting to take a turn yourself. If I’m not mistaken, opener “Zozomono” is just one acid arpeggio slowly and confidently tweaked – one could easily check their phone with one hand and twist a knob with the other to create a track like this, I have to assume. I prefer the oily pads and cracked-out flutter of “Dag”, and whereas “Cestoda’s Labyrinth” finds some percussive restraint around its central loop, it’s “Tap Dancing Goat Man” that comes out on top for me, some sort of electronic squid pumping digital ink in a way that recalls Actress’s earliest Honest Jon’s material (as if the title “Tap Dancing Goat Man” didn’t already solidify the track’s top-dog status). Cool stuff, but a highly casual affair, the sort of thing these Diagonal folks could knock out in an extended evening (and probably did). If I knew how, I probably would too.
Helm Olympic Mess 2xLP (Pan)
After chatting with Luke Younger (aka Helm) last month, I was quite excited to hear Olympic Mess, and now that I’ve grown accustomed to its strange fruit, I’d like to tell you about it. Younger has been using Helm to broadcast all sorts of painful, funny, inexplicable and irritating sounds, from power-electronics to the sound of wood crackling in a fire and everything in-between (both natural and supernatural). He’s always had a knack for storytelling with his avant noise, but on Olympic Mess he takes a step in a new direction, queuing up a variety of synthesized and near-pop sounds for a trip through his grinder. Most of the tracks are loop-based and progress subtly over time, calling to mind the most troubling Pop Ambient compilation there could ever be. Helm’s music soothes as it irritates, layering lush ambiance and disorienting hiss into a sweater that is fantastically warm yet madly itchy. The inclusion of “Strawberry Chapstick” is the biggest outlier, a whispered spoken-work track that feels like Graham Lambkin reading the diary of an obsessive Iceage fan. But all in all, it’s like Helm wants to make sure you get some sand in your sneakers while enjoying a beautiful day at the beach, and I for one and happy to take his holiday.
Institute Catharsis LP (Sacred Bones)
Had no idea that Institute’s debut album would be the record I listen to most this summer thus far, but I guess that’s also part of the reason some people are crazy about sports: you never know what’s going to happen. I thought this band had some cool singles, and I dug their name, as well as their crass attitude toward borrowing riffs off classic punk obscurities, but yeah, I just can’t stop spinning this one. It’s just got exactly what I want to hear: simplistic punk riffs that verge on kraut-rock if it weren’t for the fact that the last few notes are usually sour, unhinged vocal moaning that registers some Madonna-grade British accent, guitars that are loud but not too loud, and songs that seem to be held together by the same glue Mad Nanna use. I could put this on at a respectable house party and no one would notice that vocalist Moses Brown’s been groaning for the past twenty minutes, or that the song seems to be stuck in an infinite loop. It’s like a punker, nihilistic version of Eddy Current, if Eddy Current weren’t all such teddy-bears and instead took the teachings of Doc Dart seriously. Love it!
KAG//TFX Fugue 7 7″ (Perennial)
KAG stands for Katie Alice Greer (supreme vocalist of Priests, niece of David Allan Greer) and the TFX stands for TransFX, the electronic dance project of someone from Gag or the Perennial label itself (the mystery is almost alluring enough for me to properly research). Anyway, this is a weird one, a double A-sided single in that both sides have the exact same song, which is actually called “Trim”. It’s pretty cool – Greer leaves her bile acid in DC and sings softly and confidently, like a VHS tape that compiles Madonna and Deborah Harry’s Saturday morning cable-access dance show performances from 1982 mixed with Amy Dykes of the unfortunately-named I Am The World Trade Center. The music is suitably present-but-distant, like a song you vaguely remember hearing before, and Greer captivates along with it. Now if only they would’ve gone ahead and recorded more than one damn song.
Male Patterns Thinking Too Much EP 7″ (Shock To The System)
Sadly, the only pattern human males are famous for is baldness, but Male Patterns find some sort of solace in their defeat, even if their general outlook is fairly bleak. On this six-song EP, they request to be killed, question if they deserve to live, get annoyed by poseurs, feel tired, notice that other people don’t like them, and once again reflect on their exhaustion and general malaise. All in a day’s work! The music calls to mind early ’00s hardcore punk like Caustic Christ or Tear It Up, with essentially no mosh parts or breakdowns, just straight-forward speedy riffing, gruff-but-intelligible vocals and just a splash of guitar wankery (closer on the dial to Turbonegro’s leads than Greg Ginn’s). Ultimately a pretty forgettable record for a guy like me who lives states away and has heard this sort of thing done many times before, but it’s surely meaningful to grumbly old punks in Albany and its bordering suburbs, a fact that I have no interest in diminishing. Male Patterns are surely meaningful to some, I’m just not one of them.
The Minneapolis Uranium Club Band Human Exploration LP (Fashionable Idiots)
I’ll hand it to this band, as the simple act of looking at their record and playing it was more confusing than my first time navigating the subway alone. They’re called The Minneapolis Uranium Club Band (or maybe it’s just Minneapolis Uranium Club in reality), which doesn’t really seem like a real band name, what with various references to the Sunbelt Chemicals Corporation and center stickers for a band called Pencil and their album Not Pen!, which of course is an intentional mistake. And I thought navigating Fucked Up’s fictional universe was exhausting! Anyway, I’m sure they would delight in my exasperation, but I don’t really mind either, considering their music is pretty fantastic. They’re like a 50/50 split of Wire circa Pink Flag and Angry Samoans circa Inside My Brain. The guitars are taut and sharp, the songs straight-forward and simple, the vocals snotty and obtuse, and it works exceptionally well. They’ll cruise in an Eddy Current-esque holding pattern and then bust out a stompy groove like “The Misadventures Of Prissy Chrissie”, which might be my favorite track on the record. It’s a nice example of classic punk tropes with a modern scrubbing, and if I can ever figure out the secret handshake, you might catch me at the next Minneapolis Uranium Club tricky tray beef n’ brew.
Kassem Mosse & Simone White Three Versions 12″ (Honest Jon’s)
This collaboration between German techno purist Kassem Mosse and American blues/folk singer Simone White is not the sort of pairing you’d expect, but leave it to the good folks at Honest Jon’s to make it happen. White has a few releases on Honest Jon’s under her belt and I’m sure Mosse has at least a remix or two, and now here they are together for an intimate suite of elastic analog techno and soft, shadowy vocals. I’m reminded of the fractured electronic and spoken-word mashup of AGF, particular in the way White’s voice is so hushed and direct, like her lyrics are all secrets whispered in your ear. Unlike AGF, though, Mosse is eager to lock into a rhythm, be it the chill-out house of “Flowers In May” or the ethereal and percussive “In The Water Where The City Ends”. Unless I’m missing something, White is absent from “Long Moon”, in which jingle bells are peppered onto one of Mosse’s trademark stutter-step grooves, not unlike cocoa hitting hot milk. I get the impression this was a fleeting partnership, as though they are two strangers having a perfectly intimate conversation at a bar and never seeing each other again, but I can only hope this is merely the beginning and not also the end.
Move D & DJ Jus-Ed Brother’s EP 2×12″ (Underground Quality)
Feeling kinda foolish for not checking out Move D more often, as every time I do, I am reminded of his fascinating take on house – for music that can be entirely electronic, his always feels so vibrant and alive. Teamed up here with the underground legend DJ Jus-Ed, this EP offers four fantastic tracks of lively, party-patrolling dance music. Opener “Acid Grind” is almost like watching a DVD with the commentary on, as Jus-Ed and Move D discuss the origins of acid, pump each other up and talk shop over an infectious acid groove. “From Bridgeport To Heidelberg” is a first-class flight where you are seated between Theo Parrish and Guy Gerber with complimentary champagne, and then “Hustler Suite” brings back the color commentary over a nocturnal tech-house excursion. My favorite is “It’s A Struggle”, though, a track that has been kicking around for a few years and finally given the vinyl treatment. It utilizes a plaintive acoustic guitar loop and the title repeated like a mantra, like a beautiful blooming flower you can dance to. A lot of ground is covered on these four tracks, all of which I desperately need more of in my life. Not a cheap record (I think it’s over thirty dollars at any reputable American distro), but Brother’s is better than any dinner out you’ll have this week, I guarantee.
Mystic Inane Ode To Joy 7″ (Negative Jazz)
If you catch me on a bad day, I might bemoan the severe conformity that seems to have taken over hardcore-punk in 2015 – sure, bands are emulating classic 1982 hardcore and 1984 post-punk goth with stunning accuracy, but historical accuracy can be dreadfully boring! This is why I’m glad that bands like Mystic Inane exist, as they certainly could fit right in on P.E.A.C.E. or some other classic hardcore comp, but they have a unique style all their own, particularly due to their songwriting. Take “Ode To Joy” for instance – it kicks off with a Crazy Spirit / Dawn Of Humans pogo, sans vocals, and then after a minute or two cuts into this strangely moshable breakdown, where the vocalist repeats a word that sounds like “visa” over and over until it eventually disintegrates. Who came up with this? Oh to be a fly on the wall during a Mystic Inane songwriting session. “Pervert In Society” and “Grease Inna Hair” follow on the flip, sounding like Priests if they lived at ABC No Rio in 1986 (is that an actual tuneful guitar line I’m hearing in “Grease”?), each with unintuitive vocal flows and peculiar intent. I dunno about you, but I’m dying for a Mystic Inane album, because if there’s any band today who can really pull apart the “hardcore punk album” concept into something new and wonderfully unappealing, it’s these folks right here.
Nocht The Only Ghouls Zodiac Chord LP (Vwyrd Wurd)
Quite vwyrd indeed, Nocht The Only Ghouls are back with their second vinyl album, this one packaged in a color fold-out poster so giant it could conceal an entire Volkswagen Jetta. You probably didn’t catch their first album (limited to one hundred copies I believe, with most presumably residing in Pennsylvania), but it was a strange slice of dust-covered acoustic guitar music with the constant fear of black metal impending at any time – the musical equivalent of an early scene in a horror movie where a child is playing in the attic and a doll flings off an old rocking chair, but that’s all that happens. Same deal more or less for Zodiac Chord, comprised of fingerpicked acoustic guitar, occasional banjo and the inherent sound of the rooms they were recorded in. It’s simple enough, but something about the whole project seems disturbed on a level I can’t place… perhaps this is all a grave warning that I can’t decipher. Kind of Jandek-ian in that way, but then again, it’s really just guitar. Comes with a few strange typed-up stories too, one that starts with the line “It was Herman Ratzel who invented dentistry” and goes from there. I’d say this one is for true freaks only, but your parents actually might like it too. It’s that sinister.
Ravi Shavi Ravi Shavi LP (Almost Ready)
Throwback garage-rock isn’t often something I crave, but when it’s done right, it’s an undeniable testament to the perpetuity of the electric guitar, as is the case with Ravi Shavi and their debut LP. First, you need a strong vocalist, and they’ve got that in bandleader Rafay Rashid, who conjures both Arthur Brown and Ian Svenonius in his sassy, demented squeals, convincing not just the front row but the back of the house to fall in love with him. The band is quite good as well, tightly executing these fairly traditional garage-rock tunes, seemingly uninterested in the punk that followed a decade later and keeping it strictly for the sock-hop crowd, albeit the hottest, most sexually liberated sock-hop around. I dunno, I’m not reaching for Ravi Shavi too often, but each time I do I can’t help but remark at how skillful and enjoyable this group is, poodle skirts be damned.
Secret Lover Secret Lover LP (Sister Cylinder)
With an appealing skull painted on the cover, cool band name and cool shot of the band hanging out against a wall (they look like Monotonix cleaned up for a first date), Secret Lover already endeared themselves to me. A few listens into their self-titled album, though, and I’m still trying to figure out what happened. They look like rockers with plenty of hair to bang around, but they play these soft, slow-dance power-pop songs, although there doesn’t seem to be much power in the equation. It’s like a garage band that plays the prom, fronted by Screaming Females’ Marissa Paternoster, forced into only playing the slow jams. The lyrics have a cool brokenhearted distance that I enjoy (you can tell they are truly feeling the title “Sometimes My Wine Becomes My Lover”), but ultimately I don’t find much appeal in the songs themselves. They’re just too slow and somber, and built upon the same “Blue Moon” / “Heart And Soul” variety of hooks that I pretty much never need to hear again. I hate to insult a band with as many cool-looking slobs in it as this one, though, and can only wish them the best of luck as I slowly walk backward to the exit.
Sigha Techno Derivatives 12″ (Avian)
Okay, so Sigha was always one of those perfectly fine second- or third-tier avant-techno dudes in my book, the sort of producer that does a commendable job of fitting with the popular underground sound without really making any sort of unique statement, but I have to say, he’s winning me over big with Techno Derivatives. I mean, come on, that title! It’s making me want to do an album called Redundant Punk Rock or Grindcore Facsimiles. I assume he means it more in a way of stripping down techno to its basic necessities, like a car engine disembodied and running on cinderblocks, but I love the idea of calling one’s own music derivative right off the bat. Especially since it’s not necessarily true here… these tracks certainly fit in with the Downwards order of the day, but they are so limited, repetitive and inappropriate for dancing that I find myself slowly enamored, like I’m listening to the opening bars of a Female track from 2004 removed of any bass and trapped in a loop. “04” might be my favorite, as it reminds me of the run-out groove on a Test Dept record, short upward slaps of static that fluctuate in power and precision with a whooping alarm that never quite gets to belt out its siren. Thumbs up!
Sightings Amusers And Puzzlers LP (Dais)
When word came through of Sightings calling it quits, I can’t say I was surprised, but that doesn’t mean it lessened the blow. The past fifteen years or so have been made so much richer due to their existence, this NY band who took the no-wave ethos to previously unexplored territory, starting by imploding garage-rock on itself and quickly moving to more alien terrains. Just look at the various labels that released their records and it’s like a list of the best experimental-rock imprints of the current millennium. Anyway, Amusers And Puzzlers is their final album, recorded around the same time as 2013’s Terribly Well, and it’s a fine way to go out, sort of integrating all their various sonic avenues into one tidy album. Richard Hoffman fiercely transmits other-dimensional morse code via his bass, Jon Lockie triggers sonic booby-traps with his drumming and Mark Morgan scrapes the unnatural out of his guitar while howling, yowling and growling his abstract lyrics. No one does it like Sightings, before or since, and along with my memories of their live shows and previous albums, I will cherish Amusers And Puzzlers.
Small Wigs New Wig / Hangdog 7″ (Mock)
Small Wigs features the brothers Kuehn (Elvis and Max, sons of T.S.O.L. keyboardist Greg Kuehn), whose work in the group FIDLAR has caused many a parent grief over the past couple years. Judging from FIDLAR’s touring schedule, this is the side project, rounded out by Mikki Itzigsohn (talk about an easily-Googled name) on bass and “vox”. These two songs exemplify the good-time party-rock of the ’10s, the sort of thing you expect to hear at a Burger Records showcase while a pizza-eating contest rages on in the parking lot. Small Wigs avoid the lo-fi pitfall by offering a slick recording that aids these two tracks, proving you don’t always have to hide your sun-kissed garage-pop under a dark veil of GarageBand hiss. A little slide guitar tastefully sneaks its way onto “Hangdog” too, which is probably named after the food truck they all meet up at before going skating. Oh, to be young again!
Snäggletooth Snäggletooth 7″ (4490)
Punk has always celebrated physical traits that the mainstream tried to scrub clean, from GBH’s stellar acne to this modern British band called Snäggletooth. As the punk leather jacket on the cover seems to imply, they’re certainly interested in the classic ’77 punk style and how it crossed over into the hard rock of the ’80s. They open with a cock-rock instrumental intro, and go right into some solidly basic British-sounding hardcore-punk. I’m reminded of a more metallic Suicidal Supermarket Trolleys, particularly in the vocals. Lots of stadium-sized guitar ring-outs, punched-in solos and wild drumming, all of which helps provide Snäggletooth a nice swatch of denim to compliment their black leather and red tartan. They definitely carry the vibe where I’d expect to see their name on a flyer for a ten-band punk rock barbeque with a colorful cartoon punk-guy illustration yelling “punk’s not dead!” – you know the scene I’m talking about, but if I happened to hear Snäggletooth as I walked by, I might be tempted to stop in, and not just for the corn on the cob.
State Champion Fantasy Error LP (Sophomore Lounge)
The Sophomore Lounge label seems to have no defining aesthetic beyond what they happen to fancy at any given moment. It’s a business practice that I personally appreciate, but I can’t help but feel like State Champion is the Sophomore Lounge house band – at least one member of the band helps run the label, and they’ve done a number of records together, building up to Fantasy Error, the Champ’s third(?) full-length. Gotta say, they really nail what they’re going for here, an easy-listening, well-worn rock album with the heavy influences of country and slacker-indie coming to blows and leaving as friends. It squares off somewhere between Pavement, Wilco and Calexico, with a focus on personal and inventive lyricism (each song has enough lyrics to fill a chapter in a book) and comfortable hooks. Kind of crazy to realize that “No Pleasure” is over seven minutes long, the way it breezes in the room and drops its friendly hook on the couch. When I play this record, it’s like I’m walking into a bar and the whole band turns their heads and smiles at me simultaneously, calling me over to their table and picking up my first round. Time flies when State Champion are hanging out just shooting the shit, what can I say?
Terveet Kädet Lapin Helvetti LP (SPHC)
SPHC steps up for the North American pressing of Terveet Kädet’s fourteenth album, Lapin Helvetti. They might be the longest continually-running hardcore band at this point, pushing through every decade of the genre’s existence with thrashing speed and a firm belief in the “louder, faster, shorter” hardcore ethos. Kind of amazing, really, to witness this band rage forward with dreadlocks attached to their heads that are probably as old as some of you reading this right now. I’m no deeply informed historian of the group, but I’ve heard enough Kädet in my day to know that this new album leans a little closer to metal than previous outings, particularly in the guitar picking and overall production. There’s plenty of jud jud-ing on the guitars alongside the occasional Motörhead-ish chord progression and Läjä Äijälä’s rapid-fire vocal bursts. Definitely not one of the more exciting hardcore albums I’ve heard this year, but if you keep in mind that this group have probably written at least 500 hardcore songs in their day, it’s a boggling human achievement that may never be surpassed.
Tropical Trash UFO Rot LP (Load)
After a few singles displaying their slippery form of hardcore-punk, Tropical Trash are promoted to the Load Records camp, and for good reason. They demonstrate their style here with gusto, strutting through simplistic and monotonous punk that seems equally indebted to late ’70s no-wave and early ’90s noise-rock. This basically means that they’re a perfect fit for Load, recalling the label’s earliest days as a twisted strand of garage-punk, as many of the songs here recall the glory of Thee Hydrogen Terrors or the rock-based Six Finger Satellite records. While the drums seem to emanate from a windowless basement (maybe it’s just the constant open hi-hat that gives off this prisoner vibe), the recording’s clarity is on the right side of audible and you can even make out some lyrics here and there. Seven hefty and upbeat blasts await you on the a-side, and two deliberately extended pieces are lurking on the flip (think Crash Worship without the fire-dancing on “Knowing” and Landed without the fire-wearing on “Pink Sweat”). Cool!
Vaaska Todos Contra Todos LP (Beach Impediment)
A nice group of punk skeletons greets us on the cover here: one guy’s barfing while brandishing a hunting knife; another has a large pair of hedge clippers; someone’s got an automatic rifle and they all have impossibly-soft heads of spiky hair, perhaps the only freshly-shampooed punk skeletons in history. A different barfing skeleton in a leather jacket (this one has a mohawk) brings us the song titles on the back. I love punk. Anyway, Vaaska always seemed second-tier when it came to the vibrant and diverse Austin hardcore scene – solid stuff, but ultimately nothing too memorable. I still mostly feel that way, although Todos Contra Todos is my favorite thing I’ve heard from them yet. The recording is solid and powerful without coming across too clean, the vocals nicely set into the mix, and the riffs are simpler (and thus more effective). I wouldn’t hesitate to play “Policia Policia” if I was doing a hardcore-punk radio show somewhere, but as the entire album goes, it sounds great but kinda blends after a while and doesn’t stick to my ribs the way I’d like. Some damn fine punk skeletons they’ve got here, though. They should get their own show.
Violence Creeps On My Turf 7″ (Veecee)
I know, you’re probably expecting me to tell you about some new band featuring members of Warthog, Ajax and Ivy playing ’82 UKHC or something, but Violence Creeps are going to surprise you! Sure, they’re unflinchingly angry and ready to push you off a balcony, but they do so with these strangely post-punk-inflected hardcore tunes. Imagine The Door And The Window pretending to be Red Alert for Halloween, members of The Yah Mos and FYP forming a new band over a shared love of Madball, or Bad Daddies infatuated by the earliest Rough Trade singles and you’re somewhat near the amateurish majesty of Violence Creeps. Plus, something about the black and red cover art and the construction paper they’re printed on has me dreaming of Touch & Go releases #1 and #2. “On My Turf” is the slow-pitting standout on here, although all three tracks chomp flesh and spit gristle. If you disagree with me and decide to mess with a band called Violence Creeps, well, that’s on you.
The Warden The Warden 7″ (Lumpy)
Picked up this 7″ by The Warden from the Lumpy BigCartel last month without the slightest clue. From checking out the cover art and knowing Lumpy Records’ interest in bands who create and inhabit unique fictional worlds, I was hoping this was supposed to be a band based around an evil prison warden, with the songs written from his perspective. Would’ve been a cool idea, but instead, The Warden are a fairly regular (but good) thrashy hardcore band, making use of all the tempos faster than mid-paced – you’ll get a Lack Of Interest-y blast-beat or three, some hectic 97a / No Comment-ish time changes, a touch of Poison Idea’s steamroller rage and plenty of hard mosh territory, all with snarling vocals that reside in the middle of the mix. Eight songs on this EP, all of which seem ripe for a split with MK Ultra or Pretentious Assholes or some other gnarly Midwestern hardcore-grind band from the late ’90s. The Warden should be proud of themselves.
Zadig Kern Space Adventures Episode #2 12″ (Syncrophone Recordings)
Not sure how I stumbled upon Parisian DJ and producer Zadig, but I sure am glad I did. First of all, he looks like a real-life version of The Ghost Of Christmas Past (just Google him and be amazed by his ancient eyebrows), and secondly, his simplistic, repetitive techno continually hits my sweet spot. This recent 12″ in particular has proven to be something I can’t stop listening to, even if there’s nothing exceptional about it. It’s as though most other producers are at the ice rink, skating around the oval in a counterclockwise loop, but Zadig is a pro, gliding effortlessly and turning his body in such as way as though he seems to levitate. A-side “Quiet Orbit Around Gladia” unfolds like a Calathea flower, the way in which the music seems to progress without actually really changing at all. “Hunted By The Cosmic Assassin” has a little more of the Drexciyan flavor the title might imply, but it’s just as soothing and appreciated as an ice cube in your drink. Cheers, Zadig!
Dave Arvedon The Best Of Dave Arvedon Vol. 2 LP (Mighty Mouth)
It seems wrong, listening to the second volume of a best-of collection without ever experiencing the first, but in the case of Mr. Dave Arvedon, it feels so right! I initially assumed he was some famously obscure punk rocker who put some solo tunes together on the side, but upon further investigation that’s not quite the case – he was in a group called The Psychopaths who released one 7″ way back in 1967, and has been doing his own music ever since, continuing up until the present day, complete with a personal website that would make Geocities proud. Anyway, this collection is way more fun than I expected – it’s goofy, quirky, piano-driven and quickly memorable, somehow prophesizing the arrival of Billy Joel, DEVO, KISS and R. Stevie Moore before any of them started making music. He’ll do multiple vocal tracks just to stage an argument with himself, write a love song to a dog and pepper it with canned dog-bark sound effects, and while I probably just lost a lot of you on the idea of checking this out because of that (and the Billy Joel comparison), his unbridled corniness is the sort of thing I wish to celebrate, not dismiss. First time on vinyl for all of these tracks, and better late than never!
Black Panties Black Panties 7″ (Lumpy)
Figured I’d enjoy some extra-curricular activities while ordering the new C.C.T.V. EP (see below) so I picked up this Black Panties single too, just because. You never know when you’ll stumble upon something sublimely great in the Lumpy universe, and while I am now certain that this 7″ is not great, it’s still a pretty cool lo-fi garage-core (or perhaps garbage-core) EP. It’s all done by one man (or so the jumbled insert has led me to believe), and he boils up a sonic stew that I’d expect to find on the menu of Solid Sex Lovie Doll, Shattered or P. Trash. “Broken Brain” sounds like Downtown Boys covering Homostupids, as though it were misplaced from a Burning Hell Records boxset circa 2009. Still sounds good, just not so fresh, nor does it quite attain the level of uninhibited madness one needs to achieve to truly stand out in this genre. It’s another Lumpy record in my box though, and I intend to file it away with pride.
Blawan Warm Tonal Touch 12″ (Ternesc)
Hard to believe it’s really been three years or so since Blawan dropped the His He She & She EP, a monster of an EP that really set him apart from the crowd and surely increased the font-size of his name on festival posters the world over. I’ve been more than ready for this new four-track EP, and while it doesn’t melt my ears like the last one, it’s an excellent showing for one of dark techno’s most reliable sources. There’s a sense of refined simplicity at play through these four tracks, as if his DJ gigs in larger capacity rooms have informed his own productions. I don’t want to say these cuts are made for a lower common denominator, but there’s less abrasion, more perfectly tuned percussion swipes and an even fuller, healthier clarity to it all. It’s as if Blawan took his tracks to Crossfit before debuting their muscular new bodies, even if the hollow heaviness of the kick and chalkboard-scratch of the snare remain present. Another new Blawan EP is set to drop shortly (perhaps by the time this review is published), and I am already prepared, credit card in hand, to make that move.
Bummer’s Eve Fly On The Wall / Blue 7″ (Almost Ready)
Would love to hear Bummer’s Eve collaborate with Endless Bummer on a parody rendition of Will Smith’s classic “Summertime”, but until that day comes I am able to satisfy my Bummer’s Eve needs with this two-song EP. They play the form of poppy, soaking-wet garage-psych that Burger Records has built not just a label but a new sub-genre of hipster upon. You know the drill: straightforward drums with no fills, vocals submerged under a rainbow of effects, “Crimson And Clover” guitars smeared like a child’s watercolor painting. The first song is called “Fly On The Wall” but I swear they are just singing “yeahhhhhhh” for the chorus, and “Blue” picks up the tempo while essentially maintaining the same sonic consistency of the a-side. I suppose it’s pretty good – if HoZac were a baseball team, Bummer’s Eve would probably be batting second or third. It’s a minor league game, sure, but those are often way more stupid-fun than the MLB anyway.
C.C.T.V. C.C.T.V. 7″ (Lumpy)
This band is so good that I was willing to listen to them through Tumblr last year (the only means to hear C.C.T.V. beyond a tape compilation, and well, I guess I prefer Tumblr these days), the track “Mind Control” over and over again. Praise be, I ordered this 7″ the day it was put up for sale online (and amazingly received it like four days later), and it’s easily going to be one of the best things I hear this year. Let me explain: C.C.T.V. come equipped with the speedy oddball post-punk vibe of Seems Twice, the crazed paranoia of Systematics’ punker material, and the art-damaged queasiness of Pink Section or some other Bay Area new-wave punk freak-show that would’ve been released on Subterranean (and consequently reissued on Superior Viaduct). It’s that great! Clean-channel guitars, manic drumming, stream-of-consciousness vocalizing… C.C.T.V. feels like a recently-unearthed gem from 1979 that I’d pay $500 for, but instead they’re around today and the 7″ costs one-hundredth the price (as does a t-shirt if you mail in the back cover!). Fantastic, utterly essential punk music for your life and mine!
Chinese Girls A Two Album Set: “Pop Life” & “Of” 2xLP (Drawing Room)
The Drawing Room label has been an excellent source for skillful and mature post-rock / experimental / guitar-based creativity for a year or two now, and while I look forward to their releases, this one by Chinese Girls turned me off immediately. I mean seriously, Chinese Girls, these two white dudes from Little Rock, Arkansas wanna call themselves Chinese Girls? Apparently these two albums (recorded back in 2001 through 2003) are finally seeing the light of day now, but man, the whole trend of guys othering minorities through their band name is just so distasteful and stupid, I can’t give this record a fighting chance. I’m sure they are nice guys, and didn’t mean any harm or offense with the name, but that’s not enough for me to enjoy their band. Turns out it’s not much of an ethical dilemma for me anyway, as their music is decent but nothing special, fitting snugly between Eat Skull and Sic Alps in their early primes, clinging punk drumming to Flying Nun guitar chime and low-mixed vocals, with occasional forays into guitar experimentation and lengthy jams. It’s fine, but I don’t need one album by Chinese Girls, let alone two, and I kinda hope they’ve been able to reflect on the meaning that can come with band names like theirs in the fourteen-plus years since they came up with it, although I’m not gonna hold my breath. Most guys are stupid, after all.
Clocked Out Clocked Out LP (SuperFi / At War With False Noise / SPHC)
Here’s a hardcore record that takes me back… not to 1981 (I was a child), but to 1998, when I was playing Mario Kart and listening to dozens of hardcore compilation LPs in the background, such as No Royalties, America In Decline and El Guapo. Hopefully you pick up the vibe I’m putting down – power-violence hopefuls mixed with regional crust, oddball joke bands and gnarly hardcore that seemingly had no reason to exist (I’m looking at you, Potato Justice). I say this because Clocked Out sounds exactly like one of those bands, like they’d fit seamlessly on a mixtape with Remission, Nine Shocks Terror, Ulcer and Assfactor 4, offering fast / faster hardcore that verges into the occasional blast-beat or skankable groove, all with a tuneless one-note squawking vocalist who never dips below full-power. It’s not great, but it takes me back to when hardcore was not something to be ruthlessly self-promoted online, but the only meaningful outlet for escaping the doldrums of your high school (or whatever Clocked Out’s Scottish equivalent is – secondary school?).
Detached Objects Detached Objects LP (Gilgongo)
Detached Objects are a new rock band out of Arizona, their band member résumé boasting the likes of Avon Ladies, Gay Kiss, Soft Shoulder and others of whom I am unfamiliar. Detached Objects kinda sands down the rough hardcore edges and quirky noise of the aforementioned acts into something more mature and easier to digest. I’m hearing a looser Hot Snakes, slight hints of Wipers and Rocket From The Crypt, and a strong scent of the Sub Pop Singles Club circa 1993, ala The Fluid and Seaweed. Very workmanlike, well-played, forceful rock music that revisits both hardcore and grunge. This might sound like vague, faint praise because I suppose it is, as there isn’t a whole lot about Detached Objects that strikes me as exciting or original, but they do what they do nicely and if my sister were engaged one of these guys, I’d think to myself, “well, better than one of those troublemakers in FIDLAR.”
Femme En Fourrure Smell EP 10″ (Cocoa Music)
I was probably trawling through the netherworld of free techno music blogs when I stumbled upon Femme En Fourrure’s “Plump Bisquit” track a few years ago – tell me you aren’t going to download a track called “Plump Bisquit” if you see it! It’s a couple years later and I still think about this group far too often, so it was nice to give in and check out their newest record, a 10″ EP that is advertised online with an image of some sort of Resident Evil runway model / monster. Who could resist? Maybe their music has undergone a subtle shift in the years since “Plump Bisquit”, but this EP moves away from the punchy tech-house I was familiar with and closer to the sensual slow-motion trip-hop of Tri Angle circa 2012. I’m strongly reminded of witch-house and oOoOO (remember them?), the way that trap beats coincide with shoegazy synths and desperately erotic vocals. The fact that I can’t make out the specific language these songs are sung in (it’s probably English but I can’t say for sure) only adds to the mysterious sensuality. Definitely took me by surprise, but pleasantly so. Just try saying the word “Fourrure” out loud and see if you don’t feel a little sexier yourself.
Fleabite T.T.Y.L. 7″ (Puzzle Pieces)
Cool four-song debut from Boston’s Fleabite, an indie-pop band who transcend the genre by simply running the guitar through what must be a refrigerator-sized fuzz pedal. The hand-written band name in the middle of the cover had me subconsciously thinking about Vivian Girls (I even went back and checked the covers of the first two Vivian Girls albums, and while similar, Fleabite’s penmanship is far more sans serif), but Fleabite are far heavier – it’s like they put J Mascis’s guitar in pigtails and knee-socks, making it all happy and poppy but still an undeniable beast. The vocals recall Rose Melberg dipped in reverb and left to dry in the summer sun, and these four songs skip merrily down the lane, “Seconds” in particular being something I’d expect to find wrapped up in one of Tony Molina’s blunts. I bet Fleabite smoke weed too – they just seem like the kind of people who do such things.
Gas Chamber Stained Hand 7″ (SPHC)
Gas Chamber are one of those hardcore bands I’ve just never gotten. I’ve seen more than one person describe them as the best hardcore band today, with full understanding of the seriousness of that claim, and yet their records never grabbed me one way or another. Try as I might, they’re a band that goes over my head, which remains true on Stained Hand. I think the issue is that they are too technically proficient – the intro to “Stained Hand” sounds like Queensrÿche interpreting Metallica’s “The Unforgiven” for a couple minutes, and then turns into a flailing and heavy hardcore eruption, like Page 99 if they knew how to write a riff or two. There’s just too much going on for me, like I’m listening to the history of Guitar Center when all I want to really hear is Dawn Of Humans and Sockeye. Maybe if I knew how to play guitar, I’d appreciate Gas Chamber’s subtle tonal shifts and various tunings (and maybe even the flanged-out bass tone, too), but for now I’m just going to nod politely while Stained Hand plays and daydream of GG Allin getting hit in the nuts with a football.
Goatsnake Black Age Blues 2xLP (Southern Lord)
In case it’s not already clear, Goatsnake are one of my favorite bands – they released a few life-changing LPs and EPs around the turn of the millennium, of which I have kept in close possession ever since. They marry absurdly heavy guitar riffs with the sweet n’ tortured vocals of Pete Stahl, resulting in some sort of unholy combination of Black Sabbath and Warhorse’s musicality and Wino and Layne Staley’s vocals – yep, Goatsnake are that good! It’s crazy that it’s been fifteen years since their last album, particularly as these songs haven’t skipped a beat from where they left off on Flower Of Disease, coming through as righteously heavy and majestic as ever. On the first few spins, none of the tracks quite jump out to me as their earlier records did (Goatsnake write hit songs, not just collections of riffs, I should clarify), with the exception of “Elevated Man”. The addition of a gospel choir (or a close approximation of such) backing up Stahl on various tracks is a great and unexpected change, emphasizing the emotional soul that has always lurked beneath Goatsnake’s down-tuned guitars. Some of the songs get weirder than ever too, like a song about having breakfast with Elvis (?) and one lamenting the death of Jimi Hendrix. I appreciate their playfulness here though, clearly proceeding without anything to prove as they are already masters of their field. I’m gonna be riding out on Black Age Blues long into the sweltering summer and beyond, that’s for sure.
Innercity ABABABABABABAS (Blue Lion Child) LP (Further)
Listen, I don’t name the albums I review, I just talk about them, okay? Innercity is a new artist to me, but in my continued trust and support of the great Further Records label, I went ahead and grabbed this one. Innercity is the work of a guy named Hans Dens, and he’s been putting out a stream of releases for a few years now. On this one, Dens is joined by Bart De Paepe, working with guitar, violin, and presumably some form of supplemental electronic devices to create beautiful scenes of desolation. This music could accompany fast-motion video of hornets building their nest or an art-house film about the death of a cell-phone battery with equal success, as Innercity offer a sonic flavor that supports both techno-paranoia and nature’s organic mysteries. It’s infrequent that I even recognize the sounds of guitars or violins here, but I know they’re there, lurking underneath the brown water somewhere, like a wretched eel or some old rusty bike just waiting to scrape your shins. Another attractive entry in the Further family!
Nicolas Jaar Nymphs II 12″ (Other People)
With the apparent and much-too-soon dissolution of Darkside, I’ve been waiting on some new Nicolas Jaar to surface (that Pomegranates soundtrack was cool but seemed like more of a casual experiment than any sort of formal release), so it was nice to see this new two-track EP roll in. Jaar is a modern master of cool, either through keen manipulative intuition or dumb luck, and that continues through these two tracks, with metal-core-esque track titles like “The Three Sides Of Audrey And Why She’s All Alone Now” – you can practically see Jaar’s name in a distressed Converge font, can’t you? Anyway, these two tracks are what I’ve come to expect from Jaar: precisely muffled soundscapes, bizarrely-treated instruments and the constant delay of dropping the beat. On the a-side, the drum roll leading up to the beat is really all he ever shares, and the b-side is as delicate as the first time you heard your baby’s heartbeat in utero. The b-side in particular (“No One Is Looking At U”) gets kind of emo, Jaar’s vocals appearing as if they were Ben Gibbard’s apparition. I think I dig it, but something about Nymphs II feels as though Jaar has gotten a little too comfortable doing what is expected of him. He’s kept me guessing up until now, and I can’t help but hope that the incoming Nymphs III surprises more than this one.
Johns Grift Marks LP (Peterwalkee)
Johns have the sound of what many youthful punks grow into these days, evidenced by their debut album, Grift Marks. It sure beats the rockabilly retirement home that befell many in the ’90s! You can hear echoes of flailing, snotty punk in Johns’ sound, but they’ve mostly reigned it in, gotten a little darker and a little smarter, and found solace in classic downer punk like The Wipers and Dead Moon, while still keeping their Dillinger Four and Marked Men records as they purge the rest of their collection to help scrape together a down payment on a house just outside the city. Maybe a touch of AmRep or The Melvins (or Clockcleaner) in the mix too. They do a fine job mashing that all together into a sturdy record, with dual-tracked vocals, sharp drums and a set of songs that holds up stronger than many of the other bands plowing similar fields. Also, the vocalist is the only person actually named John in the band, a narcissistic act of which I wholeheartedly approve.
Kent State Samsara / Planetary Wounds 7″ (Debt Offensive)
The little promo-sheet for this Kent State 7″ promised a “Brainbombs meets Oasis” sound. That’s an intriguing musical car-wreck if there ever was one, so you can imagine my surprise when I put it on, only to hear some basic sugary emo-pop. Like seriously, you’re telling me that if you take the serial killer singer of Brainbombs and pair him with Liam Gallagher you’ll end up with Mineral or Sunny Day Real Estate? I guess the beauty of music is that we all hear things differently. Anyway, these two tracks are pretty decent if you are the type of person who carries their library books in a Polyvinyl tote bag. They’re softly fuzzy and chiming like the most upbeat Jazz June tunes with a one way ticket to Slumberland. Not bad at all, but can someone go and actually start that “Brainbombs meets Oasis” band now? The world is finally ready.
Laurice Best Of Laurice Vol. 2 LP (Mighty Mouth)
If you’ve read these pages for even a little bit, you’d know that I’m not big on reissues, and while I appreciate the Mighty Mouth / Almost Ready / Last Laugh empire for the hard work they put in, much of its output has very little meaning in my life. You can imagine me snickering when I opened the second volume of Best Of Laurice, ready to dismiss it as some unnecessary relic for obscurity’s sake, can’t you? Well, I feel a great amount of shame in admitting that, as this album of various previously-unreleased Laurice songs is a godsend – he’s already become my personal Lewis, as far as I’m concerned, and I almost don’t feel like sharing him with you! On this record, he apes T. Rex, The Velvets and David Bowie and occasionally surpasses their greatness, delivering unheard hit after hit with a casual cool that the rest of us will never attain. It’s almost scientific, like he unlocked the biological code to make “Baby Tomorrow” and “Dark Side Of Your Face” so instantly recognizable and dazzling, and I admire his clinical perfection. Bravo, Laurice! Gimme Volume 3!
Galcher Lustwerk Parlay 12″ (Lustwerk Music)
I’ve been counting the days until the two new Galcher Lustwerk 12″s dropped (and from what I can tell, only this one is actually available for purchase thus far), so the release of Parlay was a joyous occasion. It couldn’t have arrived any sooner, as there are plenty of summer nights ahead, the perfect setting for these dusky, dreamy house tracks to enter my consciousness. Pretty sure I’ve heard at least one of these tracks in his 100% Galcher mix (easily the best hour-long MP3 on my iPod), but it’s nice to have them as stand-alone cuts here. The title track kicks things off beautifully, with an unhurried house beat and two wavering synth notes, as fragile as Fabergé eggs and as emotional as your child’s graduation ceremony. Lustwerk eventually wakes up just long enough to murmur through his lyrics – he is so damn cool that he never even slightly raises his voice, letting everyone else get themselves worked up as he remains slouched against a velvet chaise, sunglasses and hat concealing his level of sobriety. The other tracks are nearly as fantastic (the EP ends with an instrumental cut of “Parlay”, but if you ask me his vocals are key to the experience), and his distinctive voice in underground dance music is further cemented. A+!
Marching Church This World Is Not Enough LP (Posh Isolation / Sacred Bones)
No matter how much the indie underground worships or hates Iceage and its bandleader Elias Bender Rønnenfelt, I just think they’re really quite great, okay? And not just because of their runway-readiness, because we all know they are one phone call away from becoming the new face of Dior. Anyway, Marching Church is Rønnenfelt’s vanity project (as if there wasn’t enough vanity in Iceage), and while I enjoyed the earlier 7″ that kinda sounded like a Marilyn Manson demo (or was that actually War/Var? It’s hard to recall), this new album is utterly fantastic, the perfect counterpart to Iceage’s brilliant Plowing Into The Fields Of Love. This World Is Not Enough is Rønnenfelt playing up his immortality, narcissism and hubris to exceed your average comic book villain, backed with these excellent live-band tracks that either plod forward like an early Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds rehearsal or slink into a groove that David Bowie would’ve purchased off Roxy Music (just try not to shimmy in your wingtips to “King Of Song”). Rønnenfelt still sounds like an industrial-goth Tim Armstrong, but his voice is far more versatile than I would’ve imagined, as I can’t picture anyone else singing these hilarious, twisted and occasionally vulnerable songs. Marching Church isn’t for everyone, I’m sure, but I can’t help but wonder where the people who aren’t digging it went wrong.
Night Vapor Night Vapor LP (Thunderhaus Ltd.)
Look at this Night Vapor album, a new and pleasant surprise from the Thunderhaus camp, which previously dropped Brown Angel and Microwaves records on us. All these bands feature the drumwork of one John Roman (and probably contain other band member overlap that I haven’t fully investigated), and I think this might be my favorite project of his in quite a while – this sort of belligerent, stumbling, heavy no-wave is right up my alley. I’m instantly reminded of US Maple and My Name Is Rar Rar by the bass-line rambling wildly, the guitar shucking and jiving on sour chords and the vocalist sounding as though he was just denied service from every bar in town, blathering to anyone in earshot. By all accounts, I should have already had my fill of this sort of music, but Night Vapor are really quite good at it; their sounds come from deep within the gut, not the nasal cavity, and that’s just how I like it. Hope they make it across the state sometime, I might even be willing to vape with them!
Pure Disgust Chained 7″ (Katorga Works / Quality Control HC)
It’s almost not even a decision to make anymore – if you are a hardcore band, you pick the closest Old English lettering you can find and boom, you’ve got your band logo and the song titles on the back cover straightened out. Am I the only one getting bored by this? Surely there is an option between like, standard Old English lettering and goofy, badly-drawn-on-purpose handwriting if you want to be a hardcore band in 2015? I digress – it’s not Pure Disgust’s fault, as they are just another band playing hardcore music and following the rules – my hate is directed to the game, not the player. These six songs are pretty cool – Riot City / No Future-tinged hardcore from DC, leaning closer to the tuneful buzzsaws of The Partisans or Angelic Upstarts than the thuggish static of Chaotic Dischord or Disorder. I’m reminded of 86 Mentality (right down to the vocals) or perhaps an even split of Battle Ruins and Ajax. They stand out in the lyrical department, which is nice, as they are actually writing about their own lives and giving a bit more reason to believe they are truly sick of society and the forces keeping them down, as opposed to their many contemporaries expressing similar sentiments. They put it all together nicely, leaving plenty of room for Fred Perry’d hardcore kids to stage-dive and punks to carelessly spill their beer. Time for Pure Disgust to tour with Priests and truly put DC back on the map, don’t you think?
Silver Shadows Silver Shadows 12″ (Gilgongo)
Silver Shadows are a San Francisco-based group, entering the fray with this one-sided 12″ EP. They play a shoegaze-inspired form of post-punk, not unlike Cocteau Twins, Lush and Siouxsie & The Banshees (or perhaps more accurately, not unlike a bunch of other bands playing today). Nothing about Silver Shadows’ debut strikes me as special, but that isn’t to say it’s not very good. The vocalist (I’d attribute the specific band member’s name but there’s no insert and their Facebook doesn’t connect names to instruments) has a beautiful siren call, darting in and out of the riffs like a dove released from the hands of a imprisoned lover, and the songs are mostly upbeat and driving while still staunchly maintaining that 4AD thousand-yard-stare. No big hits or dramatic moves, just more of that satisfying and modern post-Joy Division sound for anyone who is looking to fill some gaps between the Cold Showers and Warpaint records in their collection. No complaints from me, that’s for sure!
Snakepiss Arson 12″ (Chambray)
I caught wind of Snakepiss care of Actress’ DJ Kicks mix, and I’m glad I did, as Snakepiss (whose name sounds like some grotesque black metal project Arthur Rizk would produce) and his surrounding Chambray Records scene inhabit a cool little corner of Detroit. Chambray covers a decent amount of electronic ground, both for the club and those who listen at home, and Snakepiss himself is a good example of how one can stretch themselves while maintaining their own voice. Naturally, if Actress is repping it you know Snakepiss is bizarre, and while that’s true, these six tracks are easily digestible and memorable because of their strangeness, not in spite of it. “Set Fire To The Living” is a slow-burning 808 groove with an industrial supply of ambient sound and a menacing vocal, but my favorite is either “Our Love”, a darkly emotional banger that feels like the layover stop between Moodymann and Burial, or “Frig”, which stutter-steps a pitched-down vocal with a ticklishly descending bassline. The mix of basic electro drum programming and deep swells of narcotic motifs is really quite keen. Rest assured I’ll be keeping a close eye on both Snakepiss and Chambray Records from here on out!
Rodger Stella The Final Programme 7″ (I Dischi Del Barone)
These I Dischi Del Barone singles are always a treat. It might be the strangest 7″-based label around these days – I’m still scratching my head over that Idea Fire Company single, and Kostis Kilymis transports me to a new foreign locale with every spin of his. Now here’s one from one of the true pioneers (and personalities) of American noise, Macronympha’s Rodger Stella, and he stays true to his game. Jacked-up synth tones, trash compaction, sharp clusters of static hiss, radio interference and metal-on-metal collisions run these two sides of The Final Programme. It’s kind of what I expected, but also what I hoped for, as I love this sort of sonic mess, a big pile of mutated noise that can never be fully unraveled. Newcomers may want to check out Macronympha’s fantastic Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania album first, but it’s all good, really.
Swiftumz Everybody Loves Chris LP (Melters)
Everbody Loves Chris opens with a great sample: Swiftumz’s Chris McVicker’s dad leaving a message about the $27 BMI check that came for him in the mail, with a tone in his voice to suggest that his musical efforts reaped a tidy sum indeed. Then the record kicks into the sunkissed “Willy”, a jovial tune that recalls twee bedroom pop and upbeat pop-punk in equal measure. The rest of the album follows suit, as if the friendliest band members on the Elephant 6 and Lookout! Records rosters worked together to solve loneliness and despair via baked goods, bike rides and amplified guitars. It’s nice and stoned too (I’ve only listened while sober and I swear the vocals in “Waste Away” are constantly morphing into that of other people’s), with the sort of breezy shoegazing, melodic joy and unemployed/underemployed indie-slackerdom that labels like Slumberland and K find irresistible. I may have scoffed at the thought initially, but okay, maybe I love Chris too. The rumors really are true.
Tomboy Sweetie LP (Ride The Snake)
Not sure how all these cool DIY punk bands are affording rent in Boston, but I feel like I’m finding out about another great Boston punk band on a weekly basis, the most recent being Tomboy. They play a moody form of pop-punk, jockeying upbeat and major-key riffs with lyrics aimed squarely at the miserable dudes they constantly encounter, from the jerks at the bus stop (“Sweetie”) to the condescending pro-‘tuders they share the stage with (“I’m In The Fucking Band”). Their frustration is delivered with a tough, sneering sarcasm and their songs are so bouncy and catchy that I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the guys they are angrily cussing out are too caught up in the music to even notice (although the enclosed lyric sheet surely helps). The sharp edges of “Bethany” make for my favorite track on the record, the misleadingly sweet vocals recalling Young Trynas’ “I Love You” (whose Taylor Mulitz designed the art for Sweetie, as a matter of fact), with seemingly the whole band backing the listener into a corner, beatdown imminent. If Tomboy doesn’t get popular, there’s gotta be some Dave Chappelle-style conspiracy at work.
Warhead Warhead LP (540 / Blood Sucker)
It can be easy to take stalwart Japanese hardcore bands for granted, simply by their continued existence and unwavering consistency, decade after decade. I’ll admit, I didn’t do any cartwheels or anything when this Warhead album appeared in my mailbag, even though it’s their second official full-length in like two decades of existence. The cartwheels were in full effect once I started playing it, though, as this album sounds like a band on the verge of combustion, just utterly frantic and heavy and raging and precise and manic. It’s quite nearly perfect! I swear, I could happily listen to any of the isolated production tracks and be satisfied – the drums by themselves, the bass, the vocals, the guitars, any of these sounds would be fully raging on their own, but combined it’s godly. Warhead’s Cry Of Truth is a Top Ten Japanese Hardcore release for many, and for good reason, but I can’t help but think this new self-titled album edges it out. For any person trying to make the argument that a hardcore band should grow up by growing out of the standard template, allow me to crack a copy of Warhead over their skull.
The Wilful Boys Anybody There? / Flat Out 7″ (Ever/Never)
Ever/Never seem to have settled into a groove with hard rocking New York groups that feature Australian ex-pats in the lineup, most recently that very good Ballroom album and now The Wilful Boys with their debut 7″ single. It’s music for the blue-collar working class into underground rock who prefer Dead Moon and Dead C to Dropkick Murphys and The Business. You get two songs of simple yet strong stature here, like a bricklayer who is damn good at laying bricks and little else. “Anybody There?” has a tense back-and-forth befitting Feedtime, with an energy level beyond what I’d expect a bunch of old guys would have after a full day’s work. I like “Flat Out” even more, which sounds like Watery Love attempting the blues, distraught and violent while the rest of the world walks by without taking notice. Cool single, and while most of the people I know who would enjoy this sort of sound spend less and less time playing 7″ records at home on their turntables (either their kids or their cats would knock it over), I’ve enjoyed flipping this one back and forth.
Zomes Near Unison LP (Near Unison)
I’m coming into this one pretty fresh, as not only have I never heard Zomes before, I’ve barely heard Lungfish (although to my credit, I spent a lot of time with the Pupils LP maybe ten years ago now). Zomes is the long running side-project of Lungfish’s Asa Osborne, joined here by Hanna Olivegren (who has been a part of Zomes since 2013 – I did my research!). Anyway, Near Unison follows a simple yet effective formula – basic snare/kick drum programming (not a single cymbal hit), thick synths/organs which wind through dignified and convivial patterns, and the majestic and strong voice of Olivegren cutting through like a lantern in the woods at night. I’m reminded of Nico’s Desertshore, at least in its unwavering stare into the expanse, but Near Unison is a warm and gentle record, with melodies that wrap you like a blanket and an unhurried pace that seems to signify “you’re safe with me”. Near Unison could easily fall apart if any one of its parts weren’t up to snuff, if Osborne’s keyboards were too flimsy or Olivegren’s voice not so unfalteringly righteous, but they’re both subtle experts at making Near Unison an album that welcomes you when you return home.
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