Ballroom Ballroom LP (Ever/Never)
For as much as New York and its underground rock scene highlight the under-30 crowd, there are a ton of old people living there too, and sometimes they form new bands together, like Ballroom for instance. I’m just being silly because none of Ballroom are at retirement age – even if by Williamsburg standards, they might as well be – they simply play their heavy garage-punk as though the grim reaper is a personal advocate. The songs usually involve the bass-line holding down some simple pattern for its entire duration, drums locked firmly in position, while the guitar careens about, following the rhythmic pattern on occasion and ignoring it entirely on others. The vocalist is crazed but always just slightly shy of the Mr. Ed-styled vocals of say, Life Stinks, which works to Ballroom’s advantage, and there is a Mayyors-level of energy in the way they choke out these riffs, not content with simply playing them. This is a band who could make you think a White Zombie-pilfered riff is a Jesus Lizard cover tune, and I tip my hat to that.
Beppu Persuasion LP (Other Ideas)
Kind of ironic that this Beppu album was released on a label called Other Ideas, because the whole time I was listening to it, I couldn’t help but wonder… aren’t these other people’s ideas? Beppu is another newcomer to the industrial-noise-techno housing complex, and while his sound is as ferocious, unyielding and violent as anyone else’s, I can’t help but feel like I’ve heard it all before. Running through these tracks feels like a Fact Mag mix by Vatican Shadow, featuring previously-released tracks by Emptyset, Kerridge and Sandwell District – I can pinpoint the specific aspects of each artist as I roll through Persuasion. I love the sounds they all make, but there’s just something about Beppu’s lack of individual identity that rubs me the wrong way, unlike say Talker or even Grebenstein, who plough similar fields without sharing the exact same DNA. Maybe the art, with the colored-vinyl-showcasing sleeve, just adds to the “collector’s item” feel of cheapness? Regardless, if you haven’t inundated yourself with noisy industrial techno like I have, but want to check it out, there’s a good chance you’ll dig this… maybe I’ve finally overdone it.
Bok Bok & Sweyn Jupiter Papaya Lipgloss 12″ (Night Slugs)
You can nearly taste it, right? Bok Bok and his new friend Sweyn Jupiter offer two club constructions under the name of “Papaya Lipgloss” on the continually forward-minded Night Slugs label. The a-side has the “Club Mix”, which demonstrates Bok Bok’s keen use of spacial relations as it relates to main-room dance music – the silence between the beats is as crucial to the rhythm as the rhythm itself. I’m actually picking up kind of a Joe vibe here, the way the beat tries to fool you into thinking you can follow it through the various loud and sparkly synth stabs that appear like a Porche’s chrome from a darkened parking garage. Flip it for the “Sour Mix”, which moves at a slower pace and seems to have a wider selection of sound effects on hand, from 808 blips to barn doors slamming shut. I’d love to see a crowd of people going nuts to the “Club Mix”, if only because I can’t imagine large numbers of people in the same geographical area are willing to lose their minds to music as futuristic and guarded as this. It seems like this music comes from a slightly distant future and the masses aren’t quite ready for it, but maybe I’m just living in the slightly distant past.
Brando’s Island Brando’s Island 7″ (Million Dollar)
I had to look it up to make sure, but Million Dollar Records released that stupidly great Zingers LP a couple years ago, and now they’re offering the debut 7″ by Brando’s Island, who may or may not share members. It doesn’t have quite the same straightforward ’77 punk-rock sound, but is just as satisfying, stuffing these two tracks with a muffled claustrophobia, not unlike listening to the Savage / Shake discography from the trunk of your kidnapper’s car. “Autism Vision” starts bleating immediately, before slowly receding into some sort of cranky skulk, all with a vibraphone (yep, a damn vibraphone) leading the charge. And not in a “I bet this instrument would be annoying to randomly solo on” way, but actually taking charge with the melody and guiding it, as if Brando’s Island were some sort of snot-punk sibling of Aloha. “Auto Warfare” is guided by a fat synth instead, this time the vibraphone dancing around like a Tom & Jerry chase scene, while the singer sounds like a mix of the guys from Taco Leg and Sleaford Mods, ranting from his little corner of the world. Very cool stuff, the sort of thing I expect to hear on WFMU and find myself as equally confused as captivated. Melbourne’s alright if you like vibraphones!
Broken Water Wrought LP (Night People)
Broken Water certainly seem like one of the coolest bands on the planet – they look rad, put out cool-looking records on respectable labels of various underground enclaves, and that recent interview they did with The Media was filled with all sorts of awesome philosophical babble and intelligent worldliness. I guess this is why I’m so surprised that when I actually sit down and listen to the well-praised Wrought, it kinda just sounds like a basic throwback indie-grunge record. Don’t get me wrong, it sounds good – they go from Shop Assistants jangle to an homage to Nirvana’s “School” in a snap; they get as ethereal as My Bloody Valentine and as heavy as Dinosaur Jr.; it’s just that I dunno, it’s all very plain, innocuous and safely pop-based. I hear lots of records like these, records that sound alright but ultimately leave me hankering for the artists they are ostensibly inspired by, and I just expected something more from Broken Water, who seem to have spiritually, ethically and mentally reached a higher plane of existence than the rest of us. Maybe the shock will continue to wear off though, as each time I come back to Wrought I find my hopes that it sounds like some insane new modern version of Throbbing Gristle covering Wire diminishing and my ability to enjoy its simplistic, noisy guitar-pop tunes increasing.
Bugs And Rats S/T LP (Surveillance Investments / Feeding Tube)
When you actually put “S/T” on the spine of your album, that becomes its title, as opposed to a truly self-titled album, right? These are the things that keep me up at night. Anyway, Bugs And Rats are a pretty great punk group, somehow releasing records as far back as 2005 and still sounding completely annoyed, frantic and amateurish a decade later. Through songs like “Boys Are Dumb”, “I’d Really Like To See You In The Cold” and “You’re In Charge Of My Guitar”, Bugs And Rats offer a clear statement of irritation bordering on hatred, and their music matches their spite perfectly. They’re like a mix of Bad Daddies, Fang and LA Drugs, but if they only had one of those early Sub Pop compilations to work with for songwriting inspiration. Their songs are mostly hardcore-fast, but played like a teenage Dwarves cover-band with nothing to lose. I’ll take it!
Burns & Hawk Becoming Nice 12″ (Valcrond Video)
I always fancy a new Valcrond Video release, this one pairing the inimitable Torn Hawk with fellow L.I.E.S. recording artist Willie Burns. I like the way their names are listed on this record, as if they were a law firm or something, as I can’t help but picture these two guys in ill-fitting suits, making dramatic gestures to the jury, sweating profusely and ultimately obtaining a successful verdict. Courtroom fantasies aside, the music here is pretty chill as well – the a-side “Becoming Nice” is a softly propulsive techno affair, presumably frameworked by Burns as it showcases Hawk’s contemplative, easy-listening guitar work. It’s followed by “Janice Will Deal With It” (their secretary?), which I believe is nothing more than a pitched-down sample of “Becoming Nice”. Works for me! The b-side is reserved for “Cement Truck With Pretty Eyelashes”, and while that is the most vivid song title I’ve read in some time, it smacks strongly of Torn Hawk’s methodology, fixing up some old dollar-bin new age music into post-modern techno meant for DIY meditation, not physical friction. It moves through various passages with ease, and by the end of the record I find myself calling their hotline, looking to put Burns & Hawk on retainer.
Chainsaw See-Saw 7″ (No Good)
The promo sticker on the plastic bag for this Chainsaw 7″ claims it is the “first punk 7″ from Belgium”, and assuming this is true, how could we all not love it, or at least deeply appreciate it on some level? It’s like “Florida manatee gives birth to twin babies” or “child’s lemonade stand receives anonymous $10,000 tip”, the sort of feel-good news item you can’t help but be brightened by. There are four songs here, all of which seem fairly indebted to the power-chug stylings of The Stooges and The Saints, as opposed to the snot n’ spikes end of the spectrum care of The Sex Pistols, and it suits Chainsaw well (although guitarist Jerry Wanker doesn’t live up to his name, depriving us of obnoxious solos). Can’t say there is anything particularly special about this one music-wise… certainly no endlessly memorable punk anthems to be discovered, but I added the original Romantik Records pressing of this single to my want-list all the same. Record collecting should finally be acknowledged by the FDA as a disease.
Chaperone Pond 12″ (Great Circles)
I can’t hide my enthusiasm for the Great Circles label, and was psyched for Chaperone’s vinyl debut, another Philadelphia-based young man with a room full of gear and a skewed take on what techno should taste like. He’s got three originals on the a-side, moving from the sweltering crawl of “Get Ghost” into the humid strut of “Cough Into Auditorium Can’t Tell Me To Nod Now”, recalling Terence Dixon’s From The Far Future Pt. 2 or one of Miles Whittaker’s recent solo ventures reduced to a lower pitch. “All Your Emergencies” might be my favorite though, as it sounds like a Robo-tripped take on Omar S’s “Jit”, the same electronic twitch and padded thumps forced into deep unconsciousness. Westov Temple, Hero/Victim and Thug Entrancer provide remixes of the a-side tracks in the same order on the flip. Westov Temple gives “Get Ghost” an almost The Field-like stutter-loop treatment, Hero/Victim goes amphibious-slow-motion on “Cough Into Auditorium” and Thug Entrancer turns “All Your Emergencies” into a late-night house cut befitting a Donato Dozzy or Robert Hood DJ set. You can leave the air conditioning on, Pond will sweat the water-weight right out of you regardless of room temperature.
Clean Girls Despite You LP (Accidental Guest)
I came into Clean Girls knowing nothing of their world, and the record certainly wasn’t providing any help – a children’s storybook drawing of some forest druids wrapping the front and back cover was all they offered. No song titles, no band photos, nothing beyond the songs themselves, and while I can get into hermetic and mysterious design in certain cases, I kinda would like to know who was responsible for this frenzied chunk of noisy, punk-inspired post-hardcore without having to fire up the information superhighway. Besides constantly reminding me of the band Despise You, Despite You has me lost in its mess of riffs and feedback, not unlike the tangled pile of cords that surely covers their practice space floor, attaching various effects pedals and amplifiers. This is noisy rock that seems to take advice from every underground rock movement of the past ten to twenty years, including unhinged screamo meltdowns (I’m reminded of the bizarre Syntax Transfer Theory album if anyone remembers that one), grunge-rock grooves, complex post-hardcore timing and an all-you-can-eat buffet of feedback. For as varied as it is, the songs all kind of blend together (the thrifty recording quality lends itself to an indistinct blur), but it’s a fun blur to be in, like when an unexpected storm breaks out at the beach and you’re racing back to your car as wet sand sprays your eyes. Kind of annoying, but it’s still worth being there, you know?
Dark Ages Vapor LP (Sorry State)
For a label that I generally associate with quality standard-issue hardcore-punk, their recent releases have been deviating from the traditional formula in various ways, like this Dark Ages LP for instance. Vapor is pretty cool, as it evokes a distinct era of hardcore that most modern groups shy away from – the musical wasteland that is 1983 through 1986. Much of Vapor feels like a classic hardcore band’s fourth album, the one where they still considered themselves a hardcore band but had already become infatuated with Sisters Of Mercy or REM or Metallica instead of the other hardcore bands in their local scene. There are still plenty of fast tracks here, but those are the ones that have the least identity – I prefer when Dark Ages are plodding through a ballad they probably shouldn’t have written, recalling Middle Class’s Homeland or Shattered Faith’s Vol. 2. No one is really playing this stuff, perhaps for good reason, but it’s nice to hear a modern band attempt to branch out the way hardcore kids did thirty years ago. And curiously enough, beyond the normal bass/drums/guitar/vocals lineup, a guy is credited with “manual tape manipulations”, of which I don’t audibly notice, but it’s interesting to know he’s lurking somewhere. If this is setting the stage for Dark Ages’ upcoming trip-metal album in 2016, I’m all for it.
Dawn Of Humans Slurping At The Cosmos Spine LP (Toxic State)
Sweet Jesus, the debut Dawn Of Humans album couldn’t have entered my life any sooner! They’re one of the most intriguing, unique and disturbed punk bands playing today, like the scarier older brother of Lumpy & The Dumpers, and Slurping At The Cosmos Spine is a winner, just as expected. Musically, it’s more interesting and idiosyncratic than ever – each melody or riff is played via a standard 16th note regimen, usually involving some sort of subtle progression up or down the neck of the guitars (and the Cosmos’ spine of course), the drums gleefully oom-pah along and the vocalist squeals like a frightened pig, an imprisoned alien or a Jackass cast member mid-taze depending on the tune. The guitars are surprisingly restrained, with the bass significantly louder in the mix, and most of the feedback or noisy weirdness happens between tracks, not during. I’d almost rank these guys in the astute avant lineage of Keiji Haino or Michael Rother or something, the way their songs and riffs are so simple yet remarkable, but these guys are probably putting more thought into the body paint (or giant metal pyramid helmet) the singer will be brandishing on stage than whatever chords they happen to be playing. Dawn Of Humans are as fascinating a band to think about as they are pleasurable to sit and listen to on record, surpassing their humble crusty-hardcore beginnings to inhabit a universe all their own. A universe in which I hope to one day rummage through its subterranean debris in search of sustenance.
Dead Farmers Wasteland LP (R.I.P Society)
Dead Farmers have been kicking around for a while now, erupting right as Eddy Current was making a name for Aussie garage-rock in the US and beyond. I remember their debut Aarght! single as particularly scorching in comparison to their contemporaries, as if they were privy to a secret supply of jet fuel while their friends were still using basic unleaded. Wasteland is their second LP, taking a five year break since their first, and by my ears’ assessment, they’ve cleaned up all the sonic spew that signified their initial tunes and trimmed it down to a nice and presentable garage-rock strut you could take to prom. The riffs are as simple as Fat White Family’s and as raucous as The Black Lips, and it seems like at least two of the three guys are always yelling the lyrics in unison, making for a very unified gang attack, as though these simple and pleasant garage-rock tunes came from one slightly inebriated hive mind. The three of them all look like they could be brothers anyway, and if that actually is the case, Lord help their poor mother.
51717 / Silent Servant Jealous God 6 12″ & CD (Jealous God)
The aesthetic purity of the Jealous God label continues with its sixth installment, pairing two like-minded post-industrial deviants on a 12″ record and an accompanying mixed CD to either upload onto your computer or discard. They’re always a nice package (some come with badges or extra art, I believe), and this one is a particularly chilly slice of drifting discomfort. 51717 is the solo project Lili Schulder has been working under for a few years now (you may also know her as half of Shadowlust), and she offers three tracks of ominous, beatless techno on her side. Her vocals are layered and subliminal, the electronic pulse barely registers any melody and each track finds its own way of scaring you, like a horror movie trilogy. “Porsche” is particularly disturbing! Silent Servant matches the mood with two brief nighttime sketches, far removed from the dance-floor. Rather, this is music for the 4:00 am subway ride home, when it’s just you, the janitor and a couple of well-dressed vampires who keep trying to make eye contact. I can’t tell if Silent Servant is imitating 51717 on purpose here, as his style seems to mimic 51717 within these tracks, but I almost feel like I’m walking in on some sort of form of subtle musical flirtation when spinning Jealous God 6, which I enjoy more than I’d ever publicly admit.
Koes Barat Koes Barat LP (Sub Pop)
I love Alan Bishop, even if my personal finances dictate that I can only keep up with roughly ten percent of the records he releases in any given year. Koes Barat is his vehicle for covering songs by his favorite ’60s / ’70s Indonesian rock group Koes Plus, backed by members of Master Musicians Of Bukkake (who else, of course). I will plead ignorance to Koes Plus prior to listening to Koes Barat, but part of the fun of Alan Bishop is discovering new musical vocabularies while also being taunted or insulted or pleasured by the music that brings them forward, and if this album is any indication, Koes Plus were a delight. These songs are ebullient, poppy and pretty, leaning on flange and Wah the way those effects were initially meant to be utilized, with vocals as campy and fun as one could hope. These guys seem to be enjoying the hell out of these covers (and as is often the case, playing hippie dress-up)… who could possibly blame them?
Lilacs & Champagne Midnight Features Vol. 2: Made Flesh LP (Temporary Residence)
Set your VCR for another edition of Lilacs & Champagne’s late night soundtracks of lust and deceit. They’re (presumably) a studio project set to invoke the long-forgotten, recently-remembered soundtracks of every gratuitous R-rated film that found premium-cable airtime in the ’80s. Naturally, they update that sound with woozy vocal samples, MPC-based beat juggling and a keen ear for sampling, calling to mind anything from The Avalanches to Madlib or Daughn Gibson’s instrumentals to the 100% Silk label. I’m actually a little surprised at the sophisticated beat-digger vibe of Vol. 2: Made Flesh, almost expecting the gravelly voice of MF Doom to materialize over a particularly seedy beat. Lilacs & Champagne must be having fun piecing these tracks together, picking the right dollar-bin CTI album to chop apart, and through listening to their music privately in my own home, their pleasure has quickly become mine, too.
Metz II LP (Sub Pop)
Metz have quickly become one of the most popular heavy/noisy rock groups of the moment. (Jealous? Me? No, not jealous at all, why would I be jealous?) I dabbled with their first LP, but have watched them whip enough festival audiences into a crowd-surfing frenzy that their power, though I may not fully grasp it, is very real. I’ve been curious to hear what they’d have to offer on their follow-up, and if the plain, default title of II didn’t already clue me in, this is another thick n’ dirty album of no-nonsense scuzz-rock. To me, Metz has always kind of toed the line between early Nirvana and the thrashing post-hardcore of Gravity Records – Metz can take a Nirvana riff (let’s say “The Swimmer”) and approach it like the VSS, with feedback barely contained and vocals going off like strobe lights. It’s got that proto-screamo feel with the Sub Pop grunge riffs of yore, and Metz have calculated the formula with the breezy confidence of a tenured professor. They don’t seem to have any particular aesthetic agenda going (pictures of random crowds, a hilly street, people on a bench and their name in big block letters is all they care to show for themselves), but it works in their favor, operating on a nearly anonymous level, allowing their two-note riffs and pummeling Grohl-like drums to be the only point of focus. It’s like unintentional mysterious-guy hardcore, and while these guys might be anything but mysterious care of their perpetual touring schedule, they’ve done some serious good here.
Natural Causes Natural Causes LP (Snot Releases)
I’ll never not think of the band Chicken Chain when I see a new Snot Releases record – it’s just one of those band names that lodges itself in your permanent memory bank, never to be removed. Anyway, this new Snot release comes from the North Carolina-based Natural Causes, an agitated sort of punk band, and they’re pretty cool – I’d probably place them in the “excellent local band” category for now. Here’s why: their songs are mostly pretty standard snotty garage-punk, the recording is pretty hollow (the general “group vocals recorded in a reverb cavern” thing adds to that feeling), and the synth seems to stick with its presets and two-fingered melodies. None of that is meant to diss Natural Causes though, because they sound good, varying the tempo from languid to spastic and never letting their irritation subside, with song titles like “Cry Baby”, “Bedwetter” and “Boo Hoo” lined up next to each other. My only concern is that there is nothing to really differentiate them from the ever-growing pack of synth-leaning lo-fi punk bands playing today, but if I roll through North Carolina anytime soon I’ll be looking for their graffiti, that much I guarantee.
Obnox Know America LP (Ever/Never)
Well what do you know, two frequent guests of Yellow Green Red’s review section working together, the sort of match that I wouldn’t have expected but makes perfect sense. I’m talking about Obnox and Ever/Never, of course, and this new one (Obnox’s fourth album in three years) is another winner. From the various samples bookending the music within (and explanatory promo sheet), Know America is Obnox’s attempt at holding mainstream radio hostage and pumping himself through the airwaves, from stompy, fuzz-drenched mud-puddles to soaring psychedelia, wild punk rock and even a little rap. It’s still the same Lamont Thomas though, him and his guitar rig and various players adding guitars, organ or beats as they are warranted, and while it sounds so similar to the recent Boogalou Reed that I couldn’t tell you what track appeared on which album if quizzed, I was able to recognize plenty of tunes when I had the pleasure of watching Obnox perform last month. I firmly believe in too much of a good thing but Obnox has yet to reach that point, bless his soul.
Michael O. Really? LP (Fruits & Flowers)
So what do you think, is this guy married to Karen O? Maybe he’s her brother? I could wonder about the mysterious O lineage all day, and the music of Really? seems to foster such daydreaming, as it’s packed with sleepy, orchestral, acoustic-driven pop music. This is music that lies in the shade while the rest of recess is out in the field playing soccer, content to pick flowers and draw cartoons in the dirt. That said, there isn’t a whole lot that sticks out for me; Mr. O’s voice is inoffensively indistinct, his melodies offer little in the way of surprise or earth-shattering hooks, and it generally floats by like another beautiful cloud, as memorable as the next. I’ve enjoyed Really? a few times now, particularly as the windows are frequently open and the sounds of nature (and angry honking drivers) waft into my room alongside its humble joy, so if you see me on the street in July, remind me about it, as I will most likely have completely forgotten about this album by then.
Paranoid London Paranoid London 2xLP (Paranoid London)
Sometimes all it takes is the perfect combination of simple ingredients to drive me wild, as is the case with the debut album by Paranoid London, released on their eponymous label. Here’s their formula: basic 8-bit acid-house beats with little variation and hungover spoken-word vocals. It seems so easy, but I know it’s not, as so many fail at attaining the level of casual coolness that Paranoid London seem to have woken up wearing. The music is great too, a bunch of slick and gritty club tracks (actually the spelling “trax” seems more appropriate here) that seem to have landed in their groove directly upon birth, but it’s the vocals of names such as Mutado Pintado and Paris Brightledge that recall LCD Soundsystem’s “Losing My Edge”, Tin Man’s Wasteland, Galcher Lustwerk’s “100% Galcher” and Ricardo Villalobos’ “Andruic” that really makes Paranoid London come to life. It’s as though you’re sharing a couch with this fascinating weirdo, high on whatever and constantly talking, all while the house system bumps an old Jeff Mills mix. Big five-star recommendation right here!
Power Masters Home Of The Grave LP (Surveillance Investments)
Trying to get a read on the nascent Surveillance Investments label, who seem to promote rock music that wants to headline stadium tours but has some sort of fatal flaw relegating it all to shoddy basements. It’s a vibe I enjoy, and it continues with this Power Masters LP. They’re kind of like a less-funny Life Partners – more guys closer to their 40s than their 20s making rock music that recalls Rye Coalition, The Cramps and Alice Cooper in equal measure, all with the energy of someone who naps on the couch while the roommates are out at Crossfit. They never get too crazy, but rather settle into their well-worn blues riffs and fuzz-soaked guitars, strutting in their living room as though it was Quiet Riot’s tour bus. If the idea of Van Halen for the Feeding Tube / Load Records set appeals to you, I recommend you seek the company of Power Masters immediately.
Regional Curse Regional Curse LP (Format)
After meditating through a couple spins of this Regional Curse LP, and allowing its dour, faux-tribal currents to waft over me like steam from a fresh batch of penne, I couldn’t help but think that this sort of thing was Not Not Fun’s calling card of 2012-2014 or so. And behold, it turns out a cassette version was released on Not Not Fun! Aren’t I just the smartest and coolest guy in town. Anyway, Regional Curse has the appropriate visual aesthetic (weird night-time photo of a flower garden, cryptic phrase repeated on center sticker and insert), and ultimately succeeds at its modest aim of being a Tantric sex record for hipsters. Percussion borrowed from the first couple Raime EPs slowly unfurls over pulsing drones and synthetic melodies, often accompanied by sparse and haunting vocals. The perfect gift for the loved one in your life who already owns a bunch of Ensemble Economique and Peaking Lights records but doesn’t know where else to turn. Throw in a couple scented candles with Regional Curse and you’ve got one hell of a gift basket.
Restraint A Time With No Hands 12″ (Endangered Species)
Restraint is another moniker of Oliver Vereker (aka Vereker), whose noisy analog techno one might consider a valuable contribution to the trend. From what I can tell here, he switched the name because Restraint avoids techno and the art of dancing almost entirely, instead focusing on the harsh hardware-based noise end of the spectrum. I like it! The opening track soars around on some filthy sine-wave like it was searching for its parents (the Broken Flag label), slowly gaining in intensity until fading back from whence it came. It’s followed by a short three-minute blast of crumbling distortion and molten spoken-word, not unlike Sewer Election or Contagious Orgasm. The last track (they’re numerically “I”, “II” and “III”) actually works a beat into the mix, writhing like a cockroach you keep stepping on but never actually kill, until the whole infested apartment building is set on fire for the insurance money. Pretty cool 12″, and while the Endangered Species label’s “mysteriously obscured bondage mask” cover art theme has me apprehensive (how many Hospital Productionses do we need?), I am curious to see what they might do next.
Rrose Plays John Tenney – Having Never Written A Note For Percussion LP (Further)
Further might very well be the most interesting and thoughtful electronic-music record label based in the US today, pushing its artists to new weird territory (like Scuba Death, Nuel and Ekoplekz, for instance) and doing it with top-quality vinyl and art. I love Rrose dearly, but the label’s fine history is the main reason I picked this one up, as I seek out Rrose for their intensely claustrophobic techno constructions, not live and studio versions of the same long drone piece. That’s what I get here though, Rrose performing John Tenney’s Having Never Written A Note For Percussion, a 1971 piece that involves slowly playing a percussion instrument from its quietest point to its loudest point, holding it “for a very long time”, then gradually quieting down. A heady modern-avant-composer version of the breakdown in The Isley Brothers’ “Shout”, basically. Anyway, Rrose uses a gong and some expensive microphones to make it happen, raising a slow and hovering drone from silence to loudness and back again. I think I prefer the studio version, as I enjoy indulging in the crystal-clear sonics of a studio recording more than the sometimes muffled overtones of a large room (in this case, some underground space beneath the subway in DC, which is honestly really cool). The record is beautiful, the piece delivers on its promise, and while I will probably forget I own this in about five minutes, I don’t regret purchasing it in the slightest.
Sheer Mag II 7″ (Katorga Works / Wilsuns Recording Company)
What’s that, you’ve been living on a small island off the coast of Peru without internet, phone or postal service for the past year? In that case, you’re one of the few people I can introduce to Sheer Mag, 2015’s underground punk darlings, coveted by frumpy indie-pop bloodsuckers and Chaos In Tejas trainhopper crusties alike. Their debut 7″ was a 2014 favorite of mine, and this new four-song EP will surely prove to do the same this year, following their general template of “classic power-pop meets gratuitous rock posturing in a DIY punk warehouse”. Just like their debut, each song is totally great here, branching out ever so slightly with unexpected nods to The Strokes and The Jackson Five and other crucial elements of rock history. The recording on this one is a little thinner and even more burnt, not too far from your average “Macbook built-in mic turned on at band practice” sound, which very well may be how they recorded it at “The Nuthouse”. I’d love to hear Sheer Mag without the tin-can sheen of GarageBand distortion, and judging by how beloved and popular they are quickly becoming, I can’t imagine it’ll be long until a healthy studio budget is thrown their way. Let’s just all hope they accept and get a little help with the production.
Slow Walker Slow Walker LP (Stale Heat)
I can’t stand when I’m cruising on the sidewalk and find myself trapped behind a slow walker, but this self-titled LP is frustration-free. From the cover photo of the band standing in a psychedelic forest not unlike the “So What Cha Want” video, it’s clear these guys are offering a well-worn ’90s nostalgia trip, but in their case, it’s endearing and smooth. The biggest musical reference I’m hearing is Mudhoney, from the fuzz pedals to the classic garage riffs reappropriated for grungy stage-dives, with maybe a hint of Milk Music’s youthful cigarette haze and Brother JT’s psychedelic cool. The vocals don’t stand out but pretty much nail it as far as balancing the rough and the soft, and the songs are catchy yet non-commercial. Nothing flashy from Slow Walker, and I can only hope that this record finds its way to the audience it deserves, because while every media outlet big and small might tell you otherwise, there are still thousands of people out there who want nothing more than loud and honest rock n’ roll.
Slugga Parasite 7″ (Total Punk)
Slugga is a new Atlanta band featuring members of other older Atlanta bands (don’t any new punks ever move to this town?), and this two-song debut comes to us care of the reputable Total Punk label, always a good sign. These two songs whiz by fast – had Slugga written six more songs in the style of these two, they could’ve easily fit on this record (and probably kept the 45 RPM playing-speed intact) – and they are excellent examples of modern slime-based hardcore-punk. If you told me this was a band featuring Crazy Spirit and Hank Wood personnel I wouldn’t bat an eye, as “Parasite” has the feel of Screamin’ Mad George fronting Gag or something, complete with a very Lumpy-esque song title / lyrical theme. “Shaved Heads” isn’t the skinhead anthem such a title would usually suggest, so much as another Toxic State-inspired basement stomper, with Krang-like vocals ordering the Foot Clan to go make some turtle soup. Good stuff for sure! I hope the trend of hiring gremlin-based vocalists continues, as we’ve already given the ogres plenty of time on the mic.
Swanox Duskrunner LP (Not Not Fun)
Scratching my head pretty hard over this Swanox album, but in a good way – I’m not disgusted so much as happily perplexed. It’s the work of one “Anthony BC”, and not what I expected, although I can’t say I had any clear expectations to begin with. Duskrunner offers a variety of repetitive guitar tracks, teeny-tiny percussion and Mr. BC’s stoic vocal. It has all the properties of a diet drink – synthetic, light, and ostensibly cancerous – and the attitude of weird late ’70s / early ’80s kraut-rock that came from the sidelines, like if Neu!’s third guitarist did a side project with Christopher Cross on Sky Records and told no one about it until now. It’s not entirely Rastakraut Pasta, but it could be served as the accompanying side-salad, that’s for sure. At first, the music was too light that it passed right over me like a silent puff of carbon monoxide, but I’ve let Duskrunner rip a few times and its indifference to time and physics is infectious. If this review makes zero sense, don’t blame me, it’s Swanox’s fault.
Them Are Us Too Remain LP (Dais)
Them Are Us Too are a sprightly new California-based synth-duo, allegedly still in their teenage years but somehow brushed with the confidence and fully-formed aesthetic of a group twice their age. Dais must’ve been hanging out at the right movie theater parking lot to find these two, but it’s certainly a good fit for both involved, as Them Are Us Too offer some distinctly beautiful synth-pop, revealing that there is a place in goth for hopeless romantics who have found love, not just dateless shut-ins. Musically, I’m reminded of if S U R V I V E tried to write a pop record with a young American Kate Bush on the mic. Vocalist Kennedy Ashlyn Wenning (a name that could only belong to a millenial) is the show-stealer here, and my Kate Bush comparison is only a rough starting point, as her voice has the natural weightless purity of Hooverphonic’s Geike Arnaert or Cocteau Twins’ Elizabeth Frasier. There are so many other sweetly-crooning synth-pop vocalists out there these days, but they’re all Dasani compared to the straight Fiji Wenning is serving, and it makes for one of the most sensual and oddly uplifting records I’ve heard this year. Let’s just hope they are this serene and wistful after going to bars for a few years.
Thigh Master Songs To Wipe Your Mouth To 7″ (Tenth Court)
While I’d like to imagine Australia as one giant Fury Road filled with constant car-splosions and frantic violence, bands like Brisbane’s Thigh Master remind me that it’s probably just another boring and comfortable place to go get Starbucks when you want it. They’re a jangly indie-rock group who bounce through their songs, not unlike The Thermals or Swearin’. They’ve got two guitarists, so that means double the jangle, which works for these three songs, offering a level of exuberance that borders on the infectious. Two jumpers on the a-side, and “Red Woons” on the b-side, which slows to a Zoltars-esque pace and reveals a softer side to these gents. I won’t travel around the world to go see them, but if they’re willing to meet me halfway in, say, Hawaii, I might start checking ticket prices.
2×4 Eight Song EP 7″ (Twerp)
Hardly a month goes by without some new Boston-area hardcore rager passing over my turntable, and I’m not complaining! This one comes care of 2×4, a new group with names I don’t particularly recognize, but they’ve got it all down pat right out of the gate. Can’t be long until a Painkiller or Beach Impediment contract is sealed when you’re playing hardcore like this: perfect punk-ish guitar tone, air-tight rolls and vigorous delivery, and heavier on fast parts than breakdowns (clearly someone in this band has spent some time with the Abused 7″). This EP leans closer to Dischord and Touch & Go’s respective first years in business than 2×4’s native X-Claim! sound, as the vocals split the difference between S.O.A.-era Rollins and Youth Brigade’s Nathan Strejcek. Rock-solid EP, and the photo-collage insert is a nice touch that many bands neglect – I appreciate that I can enjoy visual evidence of these guys in leather jackets and crowded basements while these eight songs slam through my ears.
Uniform Perfect World 12″ (12XU)
Uniform is a new project from two old friends, Ben Greenberg (of Zs and The Men fame) and Michael Berdan (frontman of Veins, Believer/Law and Drunkdriver to name but a few). Greenberg seemingly wants to play loud guitars all day long, and Berdan has never met an amplified guitar he couldn’t scream over, so Uniform has quickly taken shape, starting off on the respectable 12XU label. The first track is the title track, and it’s probably the best thing they’ve got going – a simple pounding beat that’s little more than an electronic kick (the snare eventually shows up) and a riff forged from the steel of Judas Priest. It’s a great combo that I’m surprised no one else thought of: NWOBHM riffs with electro-industrial percussion, and “Perfect World” commands it. The rest of the record works around similar ideas, but none of the riffs match “Perfect World” – they’re best when they are unselfconsciously epic, but pretty decent otherwise. Berdan approaches the mic the same way he seemingly always has, a throaty, strained yell that fits hardcore-punk and screamo just fine, but seems slightly out of place here, as the music might warrant a Peter Stahl-like metal crooner more than a snotty scream. Good record though, and if they truly embrace the “Saint Vitus meets Front 242” vibes I occasionally detect here, I might consider wearing their cool logo on a t-shirt.
Unspecified Enemies Everything You Did Has Already Been Done 12″ (Numbers)
Gonna go ahead and take umbrage with the title of this EP – I’m tempted to go ride a unicycle while singing King Diamond lyrics and eating a coconut cream pie just to prove these guys wrong. That’s the full extent of the issues I have with this 12″, however, as it comes equipped with four high-powered bangers that lay to waste any weekly techno trends or sub-sub-genres with their forcefulness. “Ms. 45” and “Chip Mode” feel like essentially the same track, banging at at least 130 BPM with rugged drums, a durable bass foundation and rapid-fire edits of vocals and samples, all interspersed with the red-faced finesse of Kid 606 at his prime. “Chip Mode” is particularly brutal with its treatment of a classic Lauryn Hill hook. “Liquid Floor” is just as strong, with a classic Jeff Mills / Underground Resistance methodology of maintaining full dignity and composure while still smashing a vocal sample that implores “work that body” over and over again. And before I could catch my breath, the razor-sharp editing of “Lifestyles Of The MiniDisc Era” feels like a Planetary Assault Systems track remixed by Autechre for maximum destruction. I will keep my friends close and Unspecified Enemies closer.
Vanity Yer Fucking Boring / There’s The Door 7″ (Katorga Works)
Following their mind-bogglingly great debut LP, Vanity are back with a quick one-two punch in the form of this 7″ single, wherein they tell you that you have a dull personality and invite you to leave – truly a record that disses and dismisses. I was wondering if they might’ve taken a hard look at themselves after the LP, asking the hard question of “have we created something so Skrewdriver-ish that we need to change it up at least slightly?”, but even if they did ask themselves that question, the answer was clearly no – this is more rock-hard Skrewdriver worship performed with eerie perfection. “Yer Fucking Boring” is definitely the a-side hit, belting it out over the chorus and kicking up some dirt with a poppy skinhead guitar lead. Same goes for “There’s The Door”, chugging on a tom-heavy drumbeat and possibly recalling Rose Tattoo if I weren’t so blinded by the Skrewdriver sonic similarity. Heard that these guys are a functioning live unit now, and I’d be excited to go see them if I wasn’t irrationally afraid of being eaten alive by skinheads. Or maybe it’s not such an irrational fear after all.
Vexx Give And Take 7″ (Katorga Works)
Gonna say this first and foremost: Vexx are the greatest live rock group in America, and presumably the planet. Each of these four people just attack their instruments with a superior level of technical expertise and undiluted passion, all at the same time, and it’s a revelatory experience for any show-goer, new or seasoned. I’ve been lucky enough to see them a bunch of times now, and it’s about time they had some new recorded music out, because their songs are fantastic too, the sort of tunes you want to go home and listen to after witnessing on stage. This 7″ contains four tracks: the instantly catchy “Black / White”, the classic LA-punk vibe of “Sleeping In The Attic”, the unexpected classic rock / classic emo matchup of “Walking In The Rain” and the scorched-earth blast of “Flattened Scenes”. I love all these songs, but admittedly it’s partly because I can clearly recognize their live interpretations, in which they play faster, harder and more unhinged than this studio recording. It’s hard to hear the last note of “Flattened Scenes” without watching vocalist Maryjane collapsing in a heap right as the music cuts out, but I appreciate this EP just the same. In any event, you certainly need to check out this record, but I can’t help but anticipate this band getting into a big studio with a big producer and just completely annihilating all other rock records just as they have already done with live performance. It’s merely a matter of time and I advise you to start preparing.
X-Pulsion / Streets split 7″ (No Good)
I feel like it’s safe to say that in 2015, the punk rock split 7″ is essentially a retired format (sad as that may be), and here we have what very well may have been the very first punk rock split 7″, a reissue of the X-Pulsion / Streets single originally released by Romantik in 1978. X-Pulsion have two tracks of upbeat, snappy punk, like a sloppy Toy Dolls, or The Undertones if they couldn’t properly hold a harmony. The drummer absolutely clobbers his kit for the fills, so I’d dub the X-Pulsion side a success. Streets offer one track on their side, a song called “Police Control” which doesn’t conjure the sound of a youthful Discharge as you may have hoped – rather, it’s an amateurish skank that fumbles past reggae before falling down the cellar stairs. By no means a necessity, but a cool time capsule for sure, alongside the other early Romantik singles reissued by No Good, who is slowly becoming the Belgian answer to America’s Almost Ready / Last Laugh empire.
Joey Anderson 1974 12″ (Dekmantel)
Been on the hunt for more Joey Anderson ever since his Head Down Arms Buddha Position 12″ ruffled my feathers earlier this year, and this new one on Dekmantel is a delight all its own. Gotta say, I’m absolutely infatuated with the cover art for no good reason – it looks like some weird Happy Hardcore bootleg CD, really a nice visual, and it suits these three tracks nicely. The title track is over ten minutes of methodical electronics: heavy Manuel Göttsching E2-E4 vibes but with the jilted techno acumen of Kassem Mosse. “Under Water” is like watching an 8-bit sunset slowly consumed by darkness, with a warm layer of fuzz touching all synths and a Morphosis-esque improv solo toward the end. “Back Draft” finishes off the 12″ with poison spears of various sizes aiming straight for flesh, all while a basic clap and hi-hat give the green light to the dancers waiting on the sidelines. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do with the many records this fine producer has under his belt, and I’m jubilant just thinking about it.
Asda Three Tracks 10″ (FuckPunk)
Is anyone else paying attention to the fantastic FuckPunk label? This new one is a 10″ (in what appears to be an 11″ bag, although I didn’t have a ruler handy), with a couple random pieces of paper stashed inside the it. No paper sleeve for the vinyl, but it comes with some info hand-taped to the b-side center sticker and ferocious post-techno, post-grime nonsense music within the grooves. Asda (whose name comes from what I believe is the English equivalent to Walmart) is Seb Gainsborough (Vessel himself) and his chum Chester Giles. The a-side features two crusty, melody-free beats, somewhere between industrial and drum n’ bass, with Giles calmly ranting about consumption and the anomie of modern life, like an alternate version of Sleaford Mods who only ever released a tape on Hospital Productions. The b-side track comparatively floats, a few corroded hi-hats clipping through a mournfully descending melody and Giles reciting a brief and glum homily. The music is great, feeling kind of tossed-off but in a way that still seems potent and crucial. Top that off with the purposely-horrible packaging (and another limited pressing – 325 copies of this one, or so I’ve read), and I will continue to proudly ride the FuckPunk train.
Blaxxx For No Apparent Reason 12″ (12XU)
As if he wasn’t busy enough with Obnox (and the semi-functioning Bassholes and This Moment In Black History), Lamont Thomas has put together Blaxxx, teamed up with the esteemed Orville Bateman Neeley III (of OBN IIIs fame) and Tom Triplett (I don’t know his deal). I’d imagine Blaxxx is more of an occasional deal, though, as Neeley and Thomas live states away (if my stalking skills are accurate). It certainly feels like a side-project, but not in a bad way, as this trio lets loose on some in-the-red rock damage, like High Rise courting a Third Man Records contract. The guitar sounds like a rocket taking off, an echoed vocal cuts through the smoke, and the bass and drums remain permanently locked in chastity together, all build and no release. Some sweet soloing on the part of Thomas too, even more impressive assuming that they probably just talked about these songs for a few minutes before letting it rip onto tape. It’s only a matter of time before Dave Grohl steps down as American Ambassador of Rock and Lamont Thomas is rightfully appointed.
Chris Brokaw The Periscope Twins 2xLP (12XU)
Chris Brokaw has as respectable of an indie-rock guitarist’s career as one can have, playing with Come and Codeine among other groups that probably would’ve reunited at an All Tomorrow’s Parties festival were that company still in working order. This lengthy double-album is taken from a friends-only cassette of the same title, two uninterrupted sides of a 90-minute tape edited down into four sides of vinyl. The first two sides consist of “The Periscope Kids Are Out On the Skids, My Love”, which is basically an extended fuzzy ripple, like a fart capable of circular breathing or a distorted kazoo left to wander into outer space. I kept waiting for something to happen, and at one point on the second side it sputters out for a second – a move that normally wouldn’t be noteworthy but felt like a shock in this context. Reminds me a bit of the strange drone minimalists Nmperign, as far as content, delivery and lengthy song titles are concerned. The second LP is a bit more musical: the two tracks on sides C and D (whose combined titles would be as long as most of my reviews) are fragile and intimate sessions of chords, finger-pickings, musical phrases and wanderings, Brokaw’s guitar smouldering like an ancient candle that refuses to burn out entirely. Honestly, nothing really ever happens on the last two sides either (the extended title track is a real patience-tester), so this is one to be enjoyed in the way you might go through a sketchbook in an artist’s home studio rather than view their finished work on a gallery wall. I’m more of a gallery guy myself, but I can still appreciate this glimpse into Brokaw’s artistic process and use of spare time.
Broken Prayer Misanthropocentric A.K.A. Droid’s Blood LP (Sorry State)
For as much as I love Chicago as a city (I’ll even go to bat for deep-dish, and I say that as a born New Yorker), I’ve only truly loved a couple dozen or so of the hardcore bands to have come out of it. Broken Prayer are a newer group, and while I appreciate that they put effort into their records (this one comes with a nice book of mostly-legible lyrics) and poke little holes in the somewhat regimented hardcore aesthetic, I dunno… it’s just okay. They remind me of a cleanly-recorded Brown Sugar with synths instead of horns – stumbling, time-changing hardcore with a vocalist who pays no mind to the beat, ranting and raving as his mood dictates. I usually like when hardcore bands are total messes, but this isn’t that – Broken Prayer clearly spent time writing these songs, organizing parts, penning lyrics and deciding which synth settings to flatulate, but none of it really congeals into anything with lasting appeal. Probably fun live though, so maybe one day I’ll catch them and it’ll make perfect sense. Or, just as likely, not.
CCR Headcleaner Cokesmoker LP (Pollen Season / Stale Heat)
I’ve enjoyed the music of CCR Headcleaner since first checking out their 7″ on Caesar Cuts, where I knew them as an unhinged, acid-fried hardcore group. They’ve moved into a new realm on the subtly-titled Cokesmoker, essentially splitting the difference between two of my favorite Californian ex-punk bands, Los Cincos and (early) Comets On Fire. Through this record, they bash through classic garage tropes like a drunken chaperone at the high school dance, viciously shred their guitars as though trying to start a forest fire, and generally cause a self-righteous ruckus of which I wish I could’ve taken part. Things get a little more chaotic on the b-side, venturing into improvisation, extended audio samples and even a little acid squelch, and I honestly love every minute of it. There’s something about CCR Headcleaner’s delivery that makes it feel as though every member of the band is fully on-board with what they’re delivering, that there is zero hesitation or concern that what they’re doing might be a little too out-there or unlistenable, so I applaud these folks for finding each other and releasing this cosmic gem.
Davidians Night Terrors 7″ (Sorry State)
This Davidians 7″ is part of the Sorry State Records “North Carolina Singles Series”, which of course means uniform/generic 45 sleeves/center stickers. Not sure a singles club really suits hardcore, particularly with such a limited focus (no offense to North Carolina, as I can’t think of many states that could really sustain a hardcore 7″ singles series), but this Davidians record is cool enough for what it is. “Night Terrors” goes through a number of different parts, all of which are pretty frantic. The bass-line jabs all over the place, the guitar winds through a few different effects and the singer manages to make sense of it all. The b-side song is named “Gimme All Yo’ Dope” and it has the same general sound as the a-side, although it slithers more than skanks. The vocalist reminds me of some ’90s pop-punk band I can’t recall (30 Foot Fall, maybe? Falling Sickness?), and while that might be a red flag for most of the hardcore intelligentsia, it fits Davidians nicely.
Dogs On Acid Dogs On Acid 7″ (Ranch)
Dogs On Acid sounds like it should be some new anonymous techno release on L.I.E.S., but it’s actually a poppy, punky Philadelphian group, its members fresh from time in Algernon Cadwallader and Snowing (both also poppy and punky). Clearly, these folks know what they’re doing when it comes to good-time, post-collegiate indie-punk, as these two songs are both expertly crafted and easy to enjoy. “Make It Easy” has traces of later Pavement, hints of earlier Whatever Brains and the ghosts of Dogs On Acid’s previous bands wandering the halls, and “Waiting For You To Come Home” comes across like a punk band pretending to be Better Than Ezra for a Halloween basement gig. I’m impressed at how good it all sounds – Dogs On Acid borrow from all sorts of historical alt-rock articles and breezily spin it into something I want to hear all over again. The simple-yet-attractive packaging has me hoping people still buy 7″s and not just Bandcamp downloads these days, as this is one you won’t be shy to leave around the house.
Future Punx I’m So Inspired EP 12″ (Dull Tools)
Perhaps appropriately so, I’ve been hearing about Future Punx via the internet, and while photos of their live show never look quite as 2029 as I’d hope (I’d give their personal style a 2017 at best), lots of people seem to be sincerely enjoying this Brooklyn indie-punk group, which isn’t always the case with Brooklyn indie-punk groups. The “Ford & Lopatin trapped in the Matrix” cover art had me expecting Future Punx to sound like the Svedka vodka robot doing Blondie covers, and while I suppose I can still see it, this record mostly just sounds like classic 99 Records worship care of DFA and its affiliates circa 2002. I’m picturing Thomas Dolby fronting Liquid Liquid, The Stick Men on sedatives, The Faint if they never tried to hide their dorkiness (particularly in the lead vocal), or DEVO with a New York groove – live dance music to nerd out to, if not necessarily something worthy of the self-proclaimed “Punx” moniker. There’s at least one Ferris Bueller chase scene on here (I’ll give it to “Plus Side”), some funk guitar to round it out, and a vibe as fun as it is retro, like when you’re absolutely craving an Oreo milkshake for no good reason and end up parking next to a Johnny Rocket’s. If they work hard enough at it and tour, I could see Future Punx becoming the !!! of their generation, and there are far worse things to be.
Gay Kiss Preservation Measures LP (Sorry State)
Last autumn, I saw Gay Kiss perform in their hometown of Phoenix, Arizona. They came out, wearing mostly black and looking supremely pissed, and after the singer announced “we are The Gay Kiss” into the mic, a lone voice in the back of the crowd let out a “Ha-ha!”, Nelson-style, injecting their tense and negative demeanor with a splash of idiotic levity. There’s no knuckleheaded humor to be found within Preservation Measures, however, as the cover-art, resembling one of Mark McCoy’s fever dreams, ushers in a dark, menacing album. The riffs are ugly, the vocalist never goes below a full-on scream (or gurgle), and the liberal use of noise/samples/guitar effects goes a long way in distinguishing Gay Kiss from the pack. At times, it feels like Hoax if they intended to be artsy, or perhaps one of Will Dandy’s hardcore groups (Ritual Mess? Bucket Full Of Teeth?) after a particularly nasty breakup. Elements of Gravity-style screamo, Swans worship and the Youth Attack aesthetic all rear their heads at times, but it’s a sturdy and practical hardcore album through and through, the sort of record where blood, sweat and tears mix into one clear pink liquid (you can only hope it comes out in the wash).
Helmer Roccale 12″ (Valcrond Video)
Helmer’s debut EP shook me with its savagely fudgy bass-lines and sophisticated grit, and my enthusiasm continues through his second EP, this one for the upstanding Valcrond Video label (owned and operated by Mr. Torn Hawk himself). “You Say I For Me” is the a-side track, and the bass revs like an engine, calling to mind a patient, seductive Blawan mix, although this track swings through different peaks and valleys far more than an original Blawan production ever would. It’s like you can tell Helmer would love to make some crazy Aphex Twin-inspired soundwork but he loves a solid 4/4 too much, and as a sometimes-DJ myself, I love that I could just let this track play and stand there doing nothing but looking cool, knowing that Helmer already did all the work. “Corrib Chun Mask” opens the flip-side with the Knight Rider theme caught in Helmer’s helicopter blades, like a car chase across the Al-Jafr desert between two sexy cybernetic beings. “spry->Env” has the most Autechre-y name and wraps things up in a slightly different fashion, with warped Middle Eastern strings giving way to a muffled beat that could have as easily been born in Vessel’s laboratory as Black Rain’s dungeon. Bravo!
Home Blitz Foremost + Fair LP (Richie)
Daniel DiMaggio’s Home Blitz seems to be the last-man-standing from the mid-’00s weird-punk explosion, and on Foremost + Fair, he’s not standing around with his hands in his pockets so much as striding in on an armored stallion fresh from slaying a dragon or two. I don’t know how he does it, but there has been a continual and constant rate of improvement among Home Blitz records, consistently getting stranger and more unique. This one is particularly crazy (and decidedly hi-fi) – DiMaggio injects his pop-rock with a healthy dose of keyboards (pianos, synths, it seems like anything with black and white keys was played here) and an unexpected Medieval Renaissance vibe, like he’s been kicking around New York City with both Tom Verlaine and Robin Hood. Some of these tracks (“I’m That Key” in particular) almost have an emo-pop vibe, calling to mind The Anniversary and the first-wave of Vagrant Records-styled emo-punk, whereas others feel like they were written by John Renbourn after a Monty Python binge. Crazy, right? And through all this (and another minute-too-long field recording track), Foremost + Fair is his most enjoyable, complex and user-friendly record yet, mastered loud as hell to boot. I love it and you’d be crazy not to.
The Insults Stiff Love 7″ (Last Laugh)
Last Laugh already provided us with a faithful reissue of The Insults’ Population Zero EP, and they’re back again with Stiff Love, the other 7″ The Insults released back in 1979. I feel like I am just following a script with these reviews of obscure-classic punk 7″s, as the band hasn’t existed in decades and these songs (like the vast majority of Last Laugh’s reissues) are unassailable punk rock stupidity. The other Insults 7″ had a song about loving zombies, and on this one the love they describe is far more X-rated (I’ll leave it to your imagination). Speedy, jangly guitars, vocals that must’ve been recorded with a clothespin attached to the singer’s nose (no voice is that naturally nasal), safety pins and razor blades, it’s all here for your proto-pogo-punk enjoyment, forever and ever amen. These reissues might feel like a formality at times, but it doesn’t take away from The Insults’ appeal.
Jam City Dream A Garden LP (Night Slugs)
Jack Latham gave his project Jam City a pretty generic name, almost impossibly generic, and it knowingly betrayed the sheer outlandishness of Classical Curves, the debut album under this moniker. I absolutely love that record – it’s like it was composed purely out of sounds other producers discarded (dribbled basketballs, Polaroid cameras, asthmatic breathing), those unloved ingredients alchemized into a music so futuristic and singular it still sounds fresh if I put it on today. Not one to duplicate himself, Latham has changed his style dramatically for Dream A Garden, an album that leans heavily on ’80s roller-rink pop and prominently features his singing voice. I’ve listened to it a bunch, and while there still are plenty of unexpected, discordant moments, it does two things I’m not crazy about. One, it looks to the past in a way that countless other chill-wave / retro-futuristic / trendy artists have been doing for a few years now, and two, his voice (which has sort of a passive Toro Y Moi / Washed Out sheen) reminds me that this is music made by some indoor-dwelling nerd guy, rather than a sentient malware program making music as an ironic joke before it destroys society’s infrastructure (which is what I assume was responsible for Classical Curves). I want to like Lathan crooning on “Black Friday”, and I do, but I can’t help but think about how much I’d rather be listening to Classical Curves, again and again.
Kappa Chow Jump / SBTD 7″ (Kiss The World)
Look at Kappa Chow, all bundled up and ready to shovel some snow on the cover of this, their second 7″. Just like the first, it comes in a slightly-oversized sleeve with cool hand-drawn art, but musically, Kappa Chow seem to have calmed their hyperactivity, preferring a reserved cool over manic carousing. “Jump” is a gutsy title to roll with, standing in Van Halen’s shadow and all, but it’s a pretty nice tune, pairing a sassy bass-line with pop-ambient horns, scraggly guitar and a confident vocal (all leading to a solid hook, where they yell, you guessed it, “Jump!”). “SBTD” stands for “Something Better To Do”, and it’s another fun slice of peppy indie-punk, taking cues from Tyvek, The Clean and Protomartyr without losing any sincerity or naiveté in the process. If something feels slightly off when you are listening to Kappa Chow, allow me to remind you that they’re Canadian and it’ll all make sense.
Mad Virgins I Am A Computer 7″ (No Good)
The obsession with classic Killed By Death / Bloodstains 7″ reissues isn’t exclusively an American one, as the No Good label is reissuing a few choice cuts from Belgium’s Romantik Records, arguably that country’s first foray into punk rock. It’s not always the case with reissues like this one, but I am already deeply versed in the glory of this Mad Virgins 7″, as they aren’t just another quality punk band, but rather an entity that exists without contemporaries. The drummer is entirely foreign to the idea of modern rhythm, and it somehow propels the two-note riff of “I Am A Computer” and Crackerjack’s barely-post-pubescent vocal sneer, like Sid Vicious fresh out of the 6th grade. It’s easily one of the best rock songs I’ve ever heard, and I mean that sincerely. “Fuck & Suck” is the b-side and it’s a beaut as well, although it mostly just makes me sad that these are the only two studio-recorded songs that exist from Mad Virgins’ punkest moment (by 1981 they sounded like a polished mix of Bay City Rollers and The Undertones). I’m not one to promote reissue vinyl, but we all need Mad Virgins in our homes, one way or another.
Melchior Productions Meditations 4-6 12″ (Perlon)
I missed Meditations 1-3, and while I have no valid excuse, allow me to divert by saying that I’m digging hard on four through six, collected here. “Meditation 4” is the long one, a solid twelve minutes of an extended vocal moan and Thomas Melchior’s trademarked percussion: snares and hats and claps that sound like tiny air puffs, delicate and crunchy. The twists and turns are subtle, but each rapidly-echoed vocal clip is like a fresh fluffing of my pillow. “Meditation 5” had me thinking it was gonna be full-on ambient until the scissor-y hi-hats kicked in and I realized I was actually at an after-hours club in Barcelona where whiskey sodas are fifteen Euro. “Meditation 6” mixes random radio-scanned vocals much like certain tracks on Ricardo Villalobos’ Sei Es Drum, all with the incessant minimal-techno snap that puts my body into motion. Probably not a game-changing EP for me or you, but Melchior Productions has provided me with so many great moments (No Disco Future was a game-changer for me and “Different Places” is a personal top-ten dance track) that I’m happy to settle into this one like a leather couch still warm from the body of its previous inhabitant.
Mystic Inane Eggs Onna Plate 7″ (Lumpy)
Mystic Inane’s name has been popping up on my radar over the past year or two, but through a variety of errors this 7″ is the first time I’m hearing them. And I couldn’t be happier! This is exactly the sort of slimed-out sludge-punk I need in my diet, operating from the Flipper / Bobby Soxx axis with just the right amount of Mutha Records-informed suburban angst. “Eggs Onna Plate” is the a-side for good reason, a simple and effective mosh part dosed in bacteria and left out in the sun, with the singer ranting off-time about eggs (on a plate, as it were). “Polite Society” is a mid-tempo punk banger, somewhere between Bad Noids, early TSOL and The Mad, complete with a grunt-based chorus, and “Manhood” continues to increase the tempo over the shortest cut on the EP. “Eggs Onna Plate” is the clear and present anthem, the sort of song I hope is played while my casket (or decorative urn) is carried to my final resting place, but the b-side cuts don’t slouch around either. Thanks a lot, Mystic Inane – it’s late, but now I’m hungry!
No Love Dogs//Wolves / Bad Things 7″ (Sorry State)
This No Love 7″ comes care of Sorry State’s “North Carolina Singles Series”, and while I was hoping to find out that they’re a So Much Hate tribute band, I was reasonably pleased with their actual aesthetic, a tuneful and speedy, rock-oriented punk sound. “Dogs//Wolves” feels like the halfway point between the classic-punk infatuation of No Hope For The Kids or The Vicious and the modern streamlined poppy-punk of Big Eyes. “Bad Things” reminds me of White Lung, the drums running overtime while cascading riffs and a disinterested vocal snarl hurry by. No Love certainly put effort into writing these songs, with multiple guitar parts, at least ten changes per track and some form of soloing. It goes down noticeably smooth, perfect for the easy-going hardcore-punk fan who may not sport an Off! hat but likes them just the same.
OD / MB Shplittin’ The Shtones LP (no label)
Record of the month right here! This one pits my new favorite Morgan Buckley alongside his friend Olmo Devin, hence the OD and MB in the title (these folks don’t make it easy for us, do they). According to some credits I’ve found, Buckley plays on at least one of Devin’s tracks, so I’m not sure if this is a traditional split or a collaborative effort or what, but I’m going to stop worrying about how to categorize this record and allow its utter beauty to wash over me. Both sides carry the essence of Morgan Buckley’s 12″ debut, as they casually blend Arthur Russell, Deodato, Blues Control and La Düsseldorf into something entirely new, relevant and stunning. OD’s side tends toward the glossier, groove-based side of their spectrum, dropping rocks (or shall we say “shtones”) into Brian Eno’s pond and letting them ripple in beautiful rings, both controlled and wild, whereas MB’s side leans experimental, chopping up a spoken vocal, teasing various noises over a stoic beat or vibing out on backwards loops. Something about Shplittin’ The Stones is just so perfect for me, as it manages to be calm and hypnotic and brash and weird all at the same time, all effortlessly so. I’m crazy about it!
Person Of Interest Person Of Interest 12″ (L.I.E.S.)
Stepping up from the L.I.E.S. minor-leagues of Russian Torrent Versions and L.I.E.S. white-label editions, Person Of Interest steps it up with an official L.I.E.S. 12″, replete with actual cover art (and it’s cool – a blurry image of a dude somehow performing a fade-away dunk). The music has a decent dose of character too: “What You Think You Want” isn’t just another anonymous basement-techno jam, as it rides a wiggly arpeggio over a well-worn house beat and a Beau Wanzer-esque vocal (is that a Yak Bak he’s using?). “Keep It Moving” kicks off the flip with a similar punchy vibe, presided by a seasick theremin and a swinging low-end. I’d guess that “My 97’s” refers to sneakers (as opposed to the Old variety), and it’s the slowest of the three, sounding nicely tweaked as it pairs a stern string section with an 8-bit squeak, like Actress sneaking onto the set of Dr. Who. A keeper for sure, and while I enjoy the plain uniformity of L.I.E.S.’s black DJ sleeves, this Person Of Interest 12″ makes me want to hit the courts and vigorously box people out.
Pinkwash Cancer Money 7″ (Sister Polygon)
Pinkwash are a mighty new Philadelphia duo, sporting drums, guitar through a big mess of amps and vocals with just the right layer of spittle. I hadn’t really heard them before, but I trust Sister Polygon to place only the sweetest sounds on vinyl, and there’s no disappointment here. “Cancer Money” is so revved-up, beefy and KARP-like that I swear the singer Joey was going to go into that “ding dong I’m fucking with your head” line from KARP’s “Bastard Of Disguise”, but instead he repeats a couple of his own angry lines over steamroller drums and methodical two-note riffing. “Skin” opens with a soothing tone-poem before entering a slowed form of rock catharsis, summoning a rhythmic progression somewhere between Rush and Sleep before riding out on a couple thick notes ala the title track. Both tracks showcase a nice confluence of beauty and brawn, and with a Pinkwash album in the planning stages (or so I hope), I plan on enthusiastically enjoying Cancer Money while waiting on more.
Quttinirpaaq Dead September LP (Rural Isolation Project)
Upon opening this one up, my first thought was, “I love the first two Quttinirpaag LPs, but do I really need a third one, particularly so quickly?” I hate to admit that now, as all it took was two seconds of listening to Dead September to realize that I need as much Quttinirpaaq in my life as possible. It opens with a killer Nine Inch Nails / Guns N’ Roses “You Could Be Mine” drumbeat and doesn’t quit, even as layers of guitar feedback and sonic irritants are splattered all over it. And then the next track feels like Suicide trapped inside Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music, which should make your brows perk up upon reading if you are at all a fan of this website. The rest of the record is just as heavy, relentless and captivating, veering into Vatican Shadow-esque techno, Ramleh-esque noise guitar and Con-Dom-esque power-electronics with equal amounts of dedication and glee. I’ve never had the urge to carve anyone’s name into my body, but I’m starting to think a “Quttinirpaaq” logo in Old English lettering across my stomach might be an attractive first tattoo.
Sex Snobs Lonely LP (no label)
Was hoping for a Sex/Vid collaboration with The Snobs here, but sadly the chances of that happening are slim. Rather, this is an Oklahoma City-based group (someone cool’s gotta live there, right?), and while I was expecting hardcore of some sort (they even go the Old English band-name-font route), this is chugging, groovy, heavy rock music. I’m quickly reminded of Halo Of Flies, Drive Like Jehu, or any band that once played a show with Big Drill Car. They’re really pushing the negative vibes here, with songs like “Sick As A Dog”, “Pissin’ The Bed” and “The Idiot Room”, which boasts the lyrics “I am a professional at making people frown”. Definitely the type of band with guys who say stuff like “we bummed everyone out, it was so great” as though it were some sort of accomplishment. I for one am not bummed out by Lonely, though, as Sex Snobs have proved to be quite capable with their driving, beefy rock songs, favoring tuneful mean-spirited rock over hissing feedback and distortion.
Soft Shoulder Fabric 7″ (Alien Summer)
Holy Moses, Gilgongo continues to run up their credit card bill with three new Soft Shoulder 7″s, each released on hilarious fake-label names (this being an Alien Summer release). I’m a Soft Shoulder fan, so I liked checking these out, although the superfluousness of multiple short 7″s released at once by the same artist does seem a little silly, even to a fan of the format like me. “Fabric” is a good way to kick things off, chugging along like Black Time or Tyvek trying out for a Troubleman Unlimited contract. There are two tracks and an interlude on the flip, sounding like a paper-thin A Frames (“Set It Down”), a quiet jazz practice tune-up (the aforementioned interlude) and then another tom-heavy lo-fi punk stomp (“Set It Down”). Good band for sure, and I hope at least someone out there is filing these Soft Shoulder 7″s next to that Rancid forty-six 7″ box-set.
Soft Shoulder Stair 7″ (Weird Machine)
Here’s the second of the three Soft Shoulder 7″s that just came out, and I’m not gonna write about the third one (it’s cool too) simply because no band deserves three reviews in a single month. This one is also really good, some more tuneless punk crunch on the a-side, flowing into an even crunchier “interlude” and then a slowed-down version with horns (“Stair” appears twice on the a-side). It’s a gnarly enough riff that I’m down to hear it at two different speeds, so why not? Flip it for “Wyld Parrots” which is a Wounded Lion cover (remember them?) but through sonic texturalization it sounds like any other Soft Shoulder track, and the EP wraps up with “Happy Birthday, Iggy”, a personalized tune that is dear to my heart as I also know a delightful young boy named Iggy. Clearly Soft Shoulder had some tracks in the basement that needed clearing out, and it’s been one yard sale I’m glad I stopped by.
The Spirit Of The Beehive The Spirit Of The Beehive LP (Ice Age / Ranch)
The Spirit Of The Beehive’s self-titled debut album is covered in adorable childhood photos, images of cute trick-or-treaters and birthday-cake-eaters who presumably make up some of the membership of this group. Throw on the record and these images are quickly framed in a nostalgic gloom, care of the layered guitar tracks, stacked effects and despondent melodies that fill it up. Generally, modern shoegaze-pop isn’t my bag, but something about The Spirit Of The Beehive seems so carefully considered that I fall into its dusty beanbag chair quite easily. Occasional moments of Weezer and Radiohead (especially Radiohead) fandom pop up, but the album’s flow is orchestrated in such a way that the falsetto-vocal woe-is-me moments crop up right when they have the most impact, just as the occasional power-chord hooks do. I’m not sure if The Spirit Of The Beehive is depressed or delighted when they look back at these old photos, but it’s been fun trying to figure it out.
Talker Talker LP (Downwards)
The mysterious Talker is back, following his/her/its/their debut 12″ with a full-length on the formidable Downwards label. It’s more of the same, but in a good way, as this self-titled album (also called “Hari” in some locales) is a solid mix of techno-derived industrial music. Demdike’s endlessly rippling ride cymbal is present, alongside Raime’s glacial pacing and Concrete Fence’s penchant for noise, leading to a decidedly modern and referential industrial-techno record. One of my favorite tracks is the Kerridge-produced “Meniscus” (which also features his now-trademarked rusty-bullhorn vocals), not just because it’s simple, spacious and monotonously heavy, but because I like to imagine that all these foreboding, shadowy producers hang out together, showing off new runes they found near the river’s mouth and discussing cryptic hand tattoos they’re thinking about getting. The beautiful packaging sets this one off too, and while I may be a sucker at some point, I’m too busy enjoying the world of Talker to care.
Timeghost Cellular LP (Load)
I can’t help but associate Providence, RI (and Load Records in particular) with crazy hand-made artwork – besides the Wolf Eyes crew, this is the town that gave birth to the “CD-r packaged in six different hand-screened paper inserts” vibe that left such a mark on the ’00s underground. Anyway, this Timeghost LP really ups the ante with some of the most attractive LP packaging I’ve seen in a while, a screened and die-cut outer sleeve with bizarre printed insert beneath, and it’s the perfect home for this set of outside-the-box electronic experiments. It’s a hard record to place, which I dig – the music is often frantic in nature, what sounds like homemade noise-boxes and modified VCRs transmitting gobbledegook and alien morse code. I’m reminded of Irr. App. (Ext.), Panicsville and Ultra, but you could just as easily file this one under “IDM” or “Dark Ambient” (as evident on Cellular‘s Discogs page) and I would have little room to argue. While listening, I often feel like I’m inside a busy bus terminal, although the terminal is actually just the magnified inside of a microchip, and then Timeghost starts up with his unhurried whisper of a vocal (it’s as if he’s right over your shoulder) and the discomfort suddenly becomes all too real. Load’s still got it, no doubt about that!
The Zoltars The Zoltars LP (Happenin)
Third Zoltars album in four years, and while statistically my interest should decline in this mellow, wounded indie-rock band (the uniformly drab cover art doesn’t exactly shock the senses), they just keep getting better (and I enjoyed them from the start). On this self-titled record, they pick up the pace a bit, as if vocalist Jared Leibowich finally changed out of the clothes he slept in and ventured outside, even if it’s just to sit at a coffee shop for a few hours. Leibowich still sounds like he’s calling out from the inside of a locker some jock just stuffed him in, and it provides his simplistic-yet-thoughtful lyrics with a depth some normal-voiced guy would be unable to attain. It works well with the simplistic garage-rock tropes on display here (light-hearted Monks riffs, 13th Floor Elevators progressions, that sort of thing), pushing The Zoltars into a more listener-friendly direction without compromising their eccentricity. It’s like they finally got a date, resulting in an artistically-appealing cocktail of confidence and awkwardness.
Hardcore: Gimme Some More compilation 7″ (Beach Impediment)
Gotta give it up for Beach Impediment going with a 7″ compilation EP release, the likes of which are pushed further and further into obsolescence due to the internet making any/all music instantly available for listening (not to mention the slow death of the 7″ as a format people are actually willing to purchase). I was raised on hardcore compilations, so the very concept touches my heart, not to mention the funny title and fittingly prerequisite “random photo of destruction” cover art. There are six bands on this one, probably all Chaos In Tejas alumni: S.H.I.T., Peacebreakers, Mercenary, Impalers, Violent End and Ajax. Great lineup for this EP, as none of the bands turn in throwaways (and you may already know I’ve got much love for Impalers and Ajax in particular), and aesthetically it’s a winner, as all six bands have a very similar mindset for what works in hardcore and what doesn’t. If it wasn’t for the vocalists, this could be the work of one single band, and for raging modern hardcore, it works perfectly.
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