The Aerosols Fake Mirror LP (World Famous In SF)
Nope, this isn’t an unexpected new record from Youth Attack! recording artists Aerosols, but a similarly-named, San Francisco-based psychedelic power-pop group. I remember hearing about (although admittedly not really listening to) a hippie-ish psych-pop scene blossoming in the Bay Area in the past few years, and while The Aerosols probably won’t be headlining any Sundays In The Park festivals, they’re a reputable act just the same. Generally, their songs are either messy, weird-guy power-pop ala The Soft Boys or perhaps Hubble Bubble, or bouncy psych-garage that calls to mind Elf Power and Jennifer Gentle. It’s so often that this style lives or dies by its vocalist (why do so many of these bands let the annoying high-pitched guy sing lead?), but the Aerosols’ guy stays in key and sings in a higher register without becoming a cartoon. Not really my thing, but if I ever find myself getting into vintage clothes and clove cigarettes I might have to re-locate Fake Mirror and dust it off.
Joey Anderson Head Down Arms Buddha Position 12″ (Tanstaafl Planets)
Not sure why I haven’t checked out Joey Anderson sooner (okay, maybe because his name is “Joey Anderson” and not something intriguing like “Gunnar Haslam” or “Kassem Mosse”) but wow, what a great way to start! “Head Down Arms Buddha Position” bursts with its rapid-fire analog sequence from the get-go, like an advanced alarm system you’d expect to hear in a space-station when the oxygen level dips below five percent. That arpeggio continues to ripple as various distorted claps, frightening effects and off-time bleeps race out of the speakers. Fantastic! “Tears Can’t Bring You Near” kicks off the b-side with a mercifully subdued, hi-hat-led groove that recalls those great Joy Orbison / Boddika collaborative tracks from a couple years ago, like a club filled with only cool people and a large plume of smoke that constantly shifts colors. “You Gave Me Life Again” wraps it up with snaps, clicks and an uplifting chord progression that repeats long enough that you’re not just in the sky but Heaven itself. Really love this EP, very sophisticated and strong work from a man I’m sad to say I slept on. Maybe this means I might like yoga, too?
Blanche Blanche Blanche Hints To Pilgrims LP (OSR Tapes)
Blanche Blanche Blanche have released an alarming number of records and tapes in their career – I consider myself a casual fan at best and can safely say I’ve heard at least fifty of their songs. It might be a bit much to take from any one band, but I can at least say that Blanche Blanche Blanche have really gotten quite good at what they do, which is write these teeny-tiny little bedroom-pop songs on Casios and guitars so adorable they were probably bought at Kay Bee rather than Guitar Center. Something is always moving within these songs, with one hand grooving on a two-note melody while the other strums a guitar and flicks a pre-set percussion track. Imagine Systematics covering Billy Joel’s “I’m Moving Out” and that’s the general steez offered by Blanche Blanche Blanche, a sort of ’80s AM pop re-imagined as DIY cassette culture. There’s a ton of songs on here too, or at least it feels like it, but I think it helps to be bombarded by a ton of Blanche Blanche Blanche at once – this sort of cutesy miniature pop music works with Netflix-style binge listening.
Buck Gooter The Spider’s Eyes LP (Sophomore Lounge / Feeding Tube)
Glad to see Buck Gooter’s still kicking around, making their noise in some severely rural Appalachian town the rest of us wouldn’t last a day in. This new album does a great job of concentrating their attack, aided by a better recording than Witch Molecules, which allows the grime to shine, free of collateral tape hiss. Here’s how Buck Gooter do it: they basically slam through their songs on a slow-paced prehistoric drum machine, calling to mind Ed Schrader’s Music Beat back when it was just Ed and his floor-tom, with outrageously inappropriate guitar tones ala Killdozer and a nihilistic, hate-’em-all bent that calls to mind Culturcide (which naturally I consider high praise). Of course, these songs aren’t about political hopelessness or mundane day-to-day dealings, so much as celebrations of random insects, from having sex with hornet nests to the self-explanatory “Ants Are Cool”. “Fun In The Sun” even captures a “We Will Rock You” vibe, albeit with a repeated chorus of “motherfuckers fuck shit up” and guitar that sounds like it was run through Nautical Almanac’s gear. This is underground electro noise-rock in the Jackass tradition: if you’ve ever needed music you can both staple your butt-cheeks together and mosh to, look no further than The Spider’s Eyes.
Deformity Deformity 7″ (Katorga Works / Toxic State)
Always nice to get my hands on a new Toxic State transmission, and at the rate Katorga Works has been slam-dunking it, I figured Deformity would suit me just fine. I suppose it does – this is thrashy, scorched-earth hardcore, seemingly recorded in an evacuated airplane hangar just after the last humans fled the planet due to some sort of catastrophic event, leaving behind only Deformity and a few of their drunken buddies to wreak havoc for the length of this 7″ (not long). The guitar feedback rings it in, a fast part defies standard timing, then the modern-day standard oompah mosh-part rears its ugly head. Perhaps not as much personality here as many of their Katorga Works and Toxic State brethren, but this record is like two minutes of barely-audible hardcore thrash, so it might not be the best way to really figure Deformity out. I just wanna know more about that bass sound – it’s gotta be some sort of electrified rubber-band taped to a broken wine bottle, right?
DJ Oa$is Vs. DJ Ape Sleng Again 12″ (FuckPunk)
So Vessel, who released my favorite album of the previous year, started some super-gimmicky vinyl label called FuckPunk that placed sweet visions of Slap A Ham silliness in my head (their third release is a one-sided 5″ limited to 20 copies!) upon contact. What could be better! Anyway, I ran out and grabbed their other release, this 12″ that features one and a half tracks and an etched b-side that contains a few locked grooves (I told you it was wonderfully stupid). I figure Vessel is one of these mysterious DJs, and when it comes to the actual music, it’s pretty dope – these two are battling over a blown-out dancehall beat through various electronic means, as if The Bug were trying to impress the Wolf Eyes dudes. It grooves hard, and will have you wondering if your speakers blew even if they didn’t. Naturally, this record has a very limited target audience, but I’m sitting right in the middle of that bulls-eye and I can’t wait until they drop more ultra-limited, low-run, playable-from-the-inside-out double-lathe cut picture disc nonsense on me!
Exhaustion Biker LP (Aarght!)
Took me a while to figure out what this one even was – the cover and a-side center sticker say “XHAUS BIKER” in big letters, and besides the song titles, that’s pretty much all the info this one provides. Not sure if I should admire their anti-promotional efforts or be annoyed that they made me check the spine and then Google it to figure it all out, but either way, they’ve produced a fine full-length record of primal noise-rock, and that’s really the important thing. During my exhaustive (get it?) research, I’ve confirmed that they’re an Australian group (and I think they might share drummers with Ooga Boogas), and while they are gnarly, repetitive and unrepentant, I wouldn’t have necessarily guessed the Australian part, as there are no signs of The Birthday Party or Lubricated Goat in their amplifier feedback or bass-lines. If anything, I’m kind of picking up an early Sonic Youth vibe, maybe if Sonic Youth did an Action Swingers tribute album and tripled the length of those songs in the process? And while I’m trying to uncover influences, Exhaustion love locking on their grooves not unlike Neu! or Can, just with The Gordons’ monochromatic color palate. The drumming is so air-tight that it doesn’t really matter how far off course the guitar wanders; they always reach their destination. Theirs is a post-marathon satisfaction sort of exhaustion, and a contact high is possible.
Fogg Death LP (Play Pinball!)
Fogg are a Fort Worth, TX band who play a form of music best described as “Black Sabbath worship”. I gotta say though, what kind of person doesn’t want to worship Black Sabbath? Not only are they one of a tiny handful of truly godly rock bands, their specific form of music is incredibly fun to play, no matter if you’re on the bass, drums, guitar, or posed gargoyle-like in front of the microphone. As far as Fogg’s efforts, they’re pretty good at it – they’ve got the practice-space, early Pentagram-style recording quality down, the riffs are all in proper order (and guitarist Chase Jowell can cook up an extended solo or two fierce enough to make Joe Perry blush), and while the vocals of bassist Brandon Hamilton sometimes push a little too far into the comical end of Ozzy’s distinct style, they certainly fit the bill. I’m not sure if I want to listen to Death right now or just go jam on some Sabbath riffs with friends, but either way I’d consider the existence of this LP a success.
Forward Against Their Insanity 12″ (540)
So often you’ll read a punk album title declaring war or inciting a revolution and think “yeah right”, but I dunno, if there’s one band I could picture actually declaring martial law and usurping power, it’s Forward. Or at the very least, I could see them going a full season on Sons Of Anarchy, murdered only in the finale. They are real-deal hardcore-punk, infusing the Burning Spirits path of rage with Motörhead’s unwavering glory, truly living fast but not dying hard because their muscles are too big and their skulls are made of metal. This new six-song 12″ EP goes by quick, and while I haven’t picked out a standout track ala “What’s The Meaning Of Love?”, you can’t go wrong with the metallic riffing, gang-shouted choruses and general steamroller vibe of Against Their Insanity. No one tells Forward what to do!
Ghost Town Harsh Light 7″ (Gilgongo)
Here’s another exercise in superfluousness care of the Gilgongo Records label. This guy’s day job must pay real nice, because he’s just churning out records that have no reason to really exist, Blackbean & Placenta style (but not quite as charming). This one pairs label-head James Fella with Jessica Jurgens, and it’s a one-sided 7″ that features the one song they recorded together, a sort of lumpy, loose track of poppy post-punk that I would’ve expected to hear on one of those Little Darla Has A Treat For You comps back in the mid ’90s. It’s mediocre and inoffensive, and while I’m sure it was fun to write and play, the insistence on paying money to have it pressed on colored vinyl with a printed cover and everything boggles my mind. Why not write another song and save it for a two-song 7″ single like the rest of the population would? But hey, if putting out records like this one bring the people doing it joy, who am I to ask them to stop.
Steve Gunn Way Out Weather LP (Paradise Of Bachelors)
Steve Gunn’s Time Off hit me like the perfect pair of jeans, the sort of record that is so pleasant and comfortable, you just want to leave it on forever. I don’t believe it’s possible to have a bad time listening to that album, so I was especially excited for this follow-up, and after spending a couple months with it, I’ve come to the conclusion that I like it very much indeed. It’s a bit different – on Way Out Weather, we get to see Mr. Gunn trying out a few different styles and sounds, pushing further into jammy Grateful Dead territory, dusting off some electronics for their rhythmic qualities and simply trying his hand at pop song-craft. Consequently, I found it a little harder to get into right away, as it doesn’t have that fantastic Time Off flow, and it expresses more moods than humble relaxation. Now that I’m accustomed to its charms, however, I find myself reaching for it just as frequently as Time Off, happy to oblige Gunn’s travels down stranger and more colorful paths. I’ve still got my favorite jeans, so let’s say this one is a trusty new coat.
Gunnar Haslam Mirrors And Copulation LP (L.I.E.S.)
L.I.E.S. comes through with some year-end heat care of Gunnar Haslam, a name I’ve seen around (pretty sure he was the non-Tin Man half of Romans, too) but yet to hear. Really digging this one, for both what it is (patient, vibrant, methodical electronic music) and what it’s not (stagnant distorted industrial techno). I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Haslam takes a zen-like approach to his music, allowing things to bloom naturally rather than prying them open (it’s like a flower opening, not a door being kicked in). He’s like the missing link between the world of Manuel Göttsching / Emeralds’ brainy-ambient and the feverish basement rhythms of Legowelt and Kassem Mosse. It’s like Boards Of Canada if they wrote music for spas and Pilates classes instead of art films, perhaps. There’s a delightfully krauty feel to Mirrors And Copulation, but Haslam never loses sight of his fellow humans and their need to engage socially. Good daytime techno, if that makes sense. Or maybe, it’s simply like Petar Dundov on weed – yes, on weed.
Helena Hauff Shatter Cone 12″ (Lux Rec)
When it comes to modern acid, the first name I’m reaching for these days is Helena Hauff – she’s just the best, playing within the style’s confines with an adventurous spirit and high level of quality. This new 12″, the four-track Shatter Cone EP, might be her best yet, really stepping things up into a sound that is at once timeless yet distinct. It kicks off with the rusted-shut beats of “Accidie” (if there isn’t already a metal band named Accidie, there should be), and it’s followed by the sublime and moody groove of “Hiemal Quietus”, which takes a depressed cold-wave melody and transforms it into a paranoid dance cut, the sort of beat that constantly watches over its shoulder. The b-side has two more sharply-dressed hard-techno cuts, with hi-hats capable of deadly incisions and acid bleeps that mutate with the gusto of a flu virus without a suitable vaccine. I can’t get enough of this one – no matter if I’m in the car or cleaning dishes, Hauff cures what ails me, and I can only hope her somewhat brisk release schedule continues into 2015.
Herva Instant Broadcast 2×12″ (Delsin)
Can’t remember what it was about Herva that caused me to pick this one up (maybe it was the Delsin label connection with Vril and Morphosis?), but regardless of how I ended up with Instant Broadcast on my turntable, it’s a pretty nice result. I’m frequently reminded of Martyn as I listen to this one, in the way that Herva constructs his tracks with the keen experience of a big-room club DJ but uses sounds and effects that are far too wonky, weird or distinct to please the general populace. There’s plenty of UK funky / updated drum-and-bass rhythms at play, but their frequencies feel more akin to Actress or Autechre, with visions of virus-ridden hard-drives and modified USB plugs doing the Humpty Dance together. And the second 12″ takes more of a house direction, with sweet grooves that sound like they were awoken by a dusty needle after years of rest. The whole thing flows nicely too, with various beatless passages providing ample breathing room, just long enough that when the beat drops I’m envisioning Mike Dehnert passing a blunt to The Mole in a darkened 200-capacity club in some unclassified European city. If I ever get an invite to such a scene, I’m inviting Herva as my plus-one.
Jackals Violence Is… 7″ (Hardware)
Opening with a moshable instrumental intro, Jackals continue their classic approach to violent hardcore-punk on this new five-song 7″ EP. They do a pretty good job of mixing the modern scene-approved touchstones of hardcore, from ’82 Boston to Shitlickers and Discharge, with modern nods to Impalers, Hoax and Destino Final, presumably unintentional but very much there (although Hoax really should’ve trademarked the way they break a slow mosh-part down into a half-time metal stomp, utilized here on “Sanitised”). Very hard to find fault with hardcore that rages like this, even if its formulaic predictability matches that of a Law & Order episode. Sometimes I like guessing the ending before it’s over, and Jackals offer a similar sense of streamlined prowess, theirs in terms of gruff and heavy hardcore-punk.
The Jazz June After The Earthquake LP (Topshelf)
Not sure what I was expecting less, a new Jazz June album like a decade after their last one, or for me to enjoy it as much as I do? They’re an emo band who went to the same rinky-dink college as myself, so naturally I feel some sort of kinship, and they always had at least two killer tracks per album (although their previous album The Medicine was pretty solid the whole way through). And now I checked out this new one, almost entirely out of morbid curiosity, and it ends up being the best pop-rock album I’ve heard since John Mayer moved to Montana. Crazy! After the Earthquake is pretty much hit after hit, taking their emotive, rhythmic approach to poppy emo-core and updating it with chiming wall-of-sound guitars and simpler, easily-digestible melodies. It’s funny that these guys existed at the same time as The Promise Ring and always sounded so different, because there are a few tracks on here that are cunningly Promise Ring-y, and it totally works! Regardless of expectations, I keep coming back to this one, and it makes me feel young without simultaneously feeling stupid. Show the youngsters how it’s done, gentlemen!
GG King Unending Darkness LP (Scavenger Of Death)
GG King (he of Carbonas, Predator and Frantic, among many others) plays nearly everything on Unending Darkness himself, and it’s an interesting, sometimes-great look into one man’s musical psyche. Kinda hard to not compare Atlanta’s GG King to Jay Reatard, as they are both prolific musicians raised on garage-punk and seemingly unquenchable in their need to play in bands and put out records, both with friends and entirely on their own. The difference between them is evident in their specific influences, as King is particularly interested in melding black metal with garage-rock, a feat that he might be the first person to attempt. I can’t say it really works, but I applaud the effort. Personally, I prefer when he funnels that darkness into his melodic punk rock, landing somewhere between early Agent Orange and Crisis (“Another Dimension” is the sort of DIY downer-punk I’d pay big bucks for, were it exclusively distributed on 7″ single by Rough Trade in 1978). Overall, I dig the album, not just because some songs are great, but because it’s interesting to hear a man as capable as GG King try something different without coming off as intentionally weird or attention-seeking. Has Scavenger Of Death put out a bum record yet?
Leather Easy LP (Slugsalt)
All praise Slugsalt, coming through with a slab of vinyl I was afraid would never see the light of day, Leather’s posthumous debut album. I try not to care about things like “underrated”, but I’ll be damned if Leather weren’t the best heavy punk/grunge-leaning band during their short tenure on Earth and never quite seemed to get their due. While their Sterile EP remains their pinnacle achievement, Easy is a close second, raging with fresh riffs, John Joseph Jr. vocals and a heaviness usually reserved for crust bands on Relapse. You can mosh to all of it, you can dive whenever, and yet Leather retain their singular presence through all of the chaos, be it mostly from their specific heavy-flange guitar sound and Alex Agran’s impassioned yowl. I’m delighted that the song with the “Breaking The Law” riff (“Expat”) is finally available for repeated spins on my turntable, and that’s exactly what I plan on doing with Easy. You should too!
Meatbeaters Tug Of Phwoarrr! LP (Swashbuckling Hobo)
I can’t wait until the next time I get together with all my professional writer friends, so that when they ask me what I’ve been writing lately I can say “oh, I’ve been writing about Meatbeaters” and watch their impressed and jealous facial expressions. Seriously though, I think I audibly groaned when I pulled this one out of the record mailer – I shuffled it back in the stack, and eventually pulled it out and threw it on, to find out that hey, it’s actually pretty decent. Meatbeaters play high-octane rock n’ roll not unlike The Hellacopters or Turbonegro, with any sort of flashy charisma or gimmickry replaced by a steadfast Aussie working-man vibe. With a name like that, you’d think Meatbeaters might try to put their sense of humor on display, but after spinning Tug Of Phwoarrr! a couple times, it’s clear that they beat their meat as another lifeless chore in their daily grind, the same as choking down convenience-store coffee or taking their boss’s crap. They’ve got the right sound for the style, with plenty of scorching solos and a snare drum that’s as heavy as it is sharp, and I dunno, here I am, telling you I like Meatbeaters. Damnit.
Mercy Killings Snuffed Out EP 7″ (Beach Impediment)
Hope you’re hungry, Mercy Killings are fresh from the kitchen with a platter full of meat n’ potatoes hardcore. I dig the cover art of a man slowly becoming more constipated, and I can feel that futile strain in these five burly tunes. I’m not hearing as much Boston Strangler here as their debut – if anything, I’m hearing the ex-Wasted Time tag more than ever before, with slight hints of Violent Minds (or maybe even Shark Attack). You know, Boston-influenced but only influenced, not re-enacted, the sort of speedy-yet-tough hardcore that could come from any decent American college town and get the straight-edgers and drunk idiots pitting in unison. I’m not sure I’ll be spinning this one too often into the future, it kinda just blends into everything else, but if I lived in the same town as these guys, I’d be glad to see them live at least a few times a year. You can’t really go wrong with the songs Mercy Killings are playing.
Messrs Untitled 7″ (Savage Quality)
About time Savage Quality got into the 7″ game, don’t you think? I couldn’t wait to tear in to this one, just from its sheer Bulb Records-esque presentation – the lowest-quality-paper 7″ jacket was beckoning me like Medusa (and the garbage bag design recalls the Radio Shack / Radio Shock split 7″ in all its undesirable dollar-bin splendor). Someone needs to pick up Bulb Records’ dedication to horrible no-popularity rock, and who better than Savage Quality? I’ll stop projecting my wishes now, and get to Messrs, who offer five frentic-yet-muffled tracks of basement garage-punk. Garage-punk isn’t quite the right tag, though, as Messrs thrash in a manner closer to Solger than The Makers, each song running straight through without any sort of break (and if the drums were actually audible save for the snare, I’d confirm whether or not any actual drum fills take place). They get a little groovy on “After”, kind of Columbus Discount-y even, as if Watery Love shared members with The Floor Above instead of Birds Of Maya, but the rest is a feast of blurry slop-rock. I might like this one more because of the label it’s on than its purely sonic properties, but no one’s gonna arrest me for that, now are they?
Kid Millions & Jim Sauter Fountain LP (Family Vineyard)
There’s a small pool of underground musicians out there where you can essentially pull any two of them out and force them to improvise an infernal racket together and it’d be great, and Kid Millions (drums in Oneida) and Jim Sauter (saxophone in Borbetomagus) are two of them. On Fountain, these two generally butt heads like rams fighting over territory, Millions doing his best octopus impression (and content to avoid cymbals for long stretches of time) and Sauter squealing on top of squeals, the saxophone equivalent to Axl Rose’s voice. It can get somewhat strained and tense (“Turkana” feels like you’re watching a rubber-band pulled to its limit, waiting to snap) but mostly these two fire away as though they aren’t just trying to clear all humans out of the room but any rodents or insects, too. As I sit here trying not to freeze to death, it’s nice to sit back with Fountain on blast and consider the sheer amount of sweat they must’ve produced. It’s like hot chocolate for the ears.
Modus Adderf Arreug 12″ (Marmo Music)
Italian techno is distinct in its difficulty to be pigeonholed or categorized – guys like Donato Dozzy and Nuel have released so many records that are as surprising as they are great, seemingly unbound by genre convention. Might as well add Modus to the list, as he’s another Italian guy operating on his own plane of thought. This one starts off with some heavy ambient that shines like a particularly brown piece of amber (“Airplane Grim Edit”) and it’s followed by basically another rumbling engine sound, this time lifted up by a peppy, early-electro beat that recalls Rammellzee jamming with Lawrence English, before turning into a molten house track (“Exhibition II Airplane”). That’s probably my favorite, but the following “Voice Of Vatiikan” is a nice n’ woozy edit that recalls Wolfgang Voigt’s Kafkatrax if tailored for the chill-out lounge. The b-side is held down entirely by a stellar Hieroglyphic Being remix, Mr. Being confidently taking Modus’s strange parts and pumping them up like a caffeinated Eats Tapes jam. It’s a 12″ EP as great as it is hard to pigeonhole, and I hope I don’t have to wait long for the next Modus installment.
Multicult Variable Impulse LP (Sleeping Giant Glossolalia)
Third LP for Baltimore’s Multicult, a band who manage to keep writing math-rock songs (I can only assume it means the equations become more and more complex with each new riff). It’s pretty good, and while I’m not going to revisit their other LPs right now for a comparison, I feel safe saying this might be their strongest effort yet, diversifying their portfolio with various tempos, moods and angles yet never falling off course. At times, I can’t help but assume the bassist wishes she were Flea, shoeless and furiously headbanging over some slap-bass moves, but she restrains herself just enough to maintain her composure. A few tracks also recall the effortless mechanical swing of The New Brutalism, and while I might’ve said that about them before, it still rings true. I don’t know, Multicult’s style has never totally been my thing, so while I probably won’t be pulling out Variable Impulse anytime soon, I recommend it to anyone who owns more than one Big’n record or exclaimed in delight when they found out Polvo was getting back together. There’s no shame in that game!
Rollins Band Life Time LP (2.13.61)
Okay, here’s a reissue I can get behind, the 2.13.61 edition (manufactured and distributed by Dischord) of the first Rollins Band LP. As a teenage punk, it was easy to overlook any of Rollins’ post-Flag material as self-indulgent rock-star posturing from a washed-up frontman, but I’ve long since come around to heavy groove-rock, of which Life Time is a real gem. This is Rollins starting fresh, working with a bunch of heshers / friends-of-friends without the weight of Greg Ginn (and the iconic Pettibon artwork) on his shoulders. He copes with fame, misery and an unfortunate passion for spoken-word here, and with the riffs of “You Look At You” and “Burned Beyond Recognition”, I don’t think anyone can question the raging toughness of Life Time. I just love thinking of Rollins sleeping on some kitchen floor in Trenton, NJ, writing these songs – it’s a perfect fit. Pretty straight-forward reissue (I actually just did a quick side-by-side comparison), but the back cover photo of Ian Mackaye with an afro might make this new pressing a mandatory purchase.
Sapat A Posthuman Guide To The Advent Calendar Origins Of The Peep Show LP (Sophomore Lounge)
Damn, has it really been almost eight years since Sapat’s Siltbreeze debut? Where have all these wasted years gone? Anyway, everyone’s favorite new-weird free-noise rock collective out of Kentucky is back, with an album title to make Fiona Apple blush. It’s been a while since I listened to Sapat, and I don’t remember them being this wildly raucous, like one of those traveling big-band vegan side-shows that would appear outside a punk music festival and busk in their homemade outfits. It’s as if Barnacled enlisted Wild Man Fischer on vocals, careening through ramshackle Gypsy melodies and improvised breakdowns while a figure more beard than man hollers over top. They find some restraint on the b-side, almost entering this weird “Don Van Vliet fronting Ex-Cocaine” territory that I’d like to hear more of, and they simmer it out that way until the record ends. Intriguing stuff, as it has me imagining a world where Jim Rose’s Circus Sideshow stole the cultural zeitgeist from Nirvana and nipple rings never faded out of fashion.
Sewers Chain Of Command 7″ (Tenth Court)
I remember Sewers came through here before with a solid-if-unremarkable album of dirty AmRep Aussie rock, and here they are again in the succinct 7″ single format. Maybe it’s the brevity that helps keep my interest, but they sound especially good here. “Chain Of Command” sounds like Pop. 1280 if they got heavy into Feedtime instead of Marilyn Manson, and “Life’s A Boar” stomps down the hallway in muddy boots, surprisingly Lamps-like in its delivery and general disregard for others. Not sure it’s a strong enough showing for any international fans to plunk down the shipping costs, but if I wandered into a shop that had Chain Of Command proudly on display (this is assuming there are still record shops out there that stock new 7″s), I’d probably make eye contact with the sales clerk long enough to give them a sincere head-nod. Is Australia still sending five of their bands over for American tours every year? I’d cast a vote in Sewers direction, so long as Total Control are already confirmed.
S.H.I.T. Feeding Time 7″ (Sorry State)
I just can’t help but wonder, do these guys’ parents know their band is called S.H.I.T.? Even “Fucked Up” seems more explainable to a baby boomer. Anyway, I’ve heard good things about but not actually heard S.H.I.T. until now, care of the top-quality Static Shock label. It’s pretty much what I was expecting: basic Hellhammer-via-Hoax riffs metered by Dawn Of Humans- and Blazing Eye-style oompah drumming, topped off with snarled vocals encased in Destino Final’s echo effects (which have become more of the standard than non-echoed vocals at this point in underground hardcore). S.H.I.T. probably only differ from Gag and Glue by the placement of the pins on their denim vests, and yet I can still appreciate S.H.I.T.’s two brief cuts of modern hardcore, particularly as it seems like their hearts are truly in it. Giving up on hoping for originality is really the only way to appreciate hardcore in 2015, don’t you think? After all, some new hardcore band just called themselves “Fury”, so we’ve got the go after the most egregious of uncaring imitators first.
Tit Tit 12″ (FDH / Volar)
Remember when Digital Leather was putting out like two LPs a month for a couple years there, running up credit-card tabs for every Italian or Midwestern garage label? I never quite understood the appeal, but clearly others did, and I can’t help but think that the two men of Tit (yes, Tit) were fans. If anything, Shawn Foree and Bobby Hussy are late enough for this trend that it almost seems quaint, as mostly everyone has traded their Blank Dogs singles collections in for ’70s outsider-folk reissues by now, so it’s kinda nice to hear this sort of thing, even if I don’t think Tit are particularly noteworthy. Theirs are essentially garage-punk melodies and song structures that are re-fit for keyboards and drum machines – you’d have a much easier chance covering these tunes with a live rock band than anything Gary Numan or Cold Cave ever wrote. So yeah, “electronic dark-wave post-punk” for the Burger Records set, which isn’t meant as a diss – everyone’s gotta come to different styles of music from their own angle, and this one is as valid as any, even though Tit don’t offer anything new or exciting (and the vocals on “On Your Side” are almost hilariously bad enough to be really good). They’ve got a lot of work ahead of them if they want to come anywhere close to Digital Leather’s bountiful output, though.
Total Heels Total Heels LP (no label)
Total Heels are a Danish indie-rock group that put together this LP themselves, and if the word “Danish” has triggered thoughts of Posh Isolation, Iceage and Young Wasteners, please go ahead and remove those thoughts at once. Total Heels have nothing to do with any angsty punk teenagers, as they come across more like angsty young adults. It just sounds like music made by guys in their late 20s and early 30s with successful careers, like architects and graphic designers who do a band because it’s fun. I applaud that, but the music of Total Heels isn’t for me – it sounds like a mix of The Holdsteady and The Monorchid, maybe, but with the annoyingly meta “talking about the song” vocal approach via a jittery, excitable nerd voice, and the music just kinda sounds like anything else, with organ poking through the sometimes-speedy, sometimes-slow riffing. I have no plans to listen to Total Heels again – the music is fairly basic and I don’t like the singer, but I’d love to come over and see what amazing Danish furniture they’ve got in their homes, even though this bad review probably burned that bridge.
Dan Trevitt / Westov Temple 2.2mi 12″ (Great Circles)
Dan Trevitt and Westov Temple make for a great pairing of heavy-duty techno circuitry, and while I knew I was gonna dig this one before it ever hit my turntable, I am pleased to say that it’s all I could’ve hoped for. Dan Trevitt provides two tracks on his side, with “Mendacious Truths” seeming starting mid-track, all pistons already firing. I’m imagining multiple Terrence Dixon tracks mixed at once, but in a logical way, as this is dense, robotic and impenetrable. He follows that with “The Vapid”, which is far lighter in weight and removed from any dance-floor; it could’ve easily worked on one of those “fumbling for a grip” scenes in Gravity, with its constant electronic chatter like a million tiny car alarms. Westov Temple offers “Dr. Sardon” and I’m instantly reminded of those sad kids who climb into their laundry machines as a joke and end up in need of severe medical attention, in the way the beat relentlessly pours its weight upon us. I understand Westov Temple comes from the realm of dance music, but it has the same feel as listening to The Rita or Militia or some other mean-spirited power-electronics act, it’s just so continuously heavy and bleak. Great Circles operate on a somewhat restrained release schedule, so collecting them all is quite easy to do, and comes highly recommended.
Charlie Tweddle Fantastic Greatest Hits 2xLP (Mighty Mouth Music / Ever/Never)
Ever/Never have been a fun underground rock label to follow during their brief existence, and I gotta say, I was a little disappointed to see them putting their money into a weird ’70s private-press folk reissue. Maybe there are lots of people who care about this stuff, but I dunno, I’m not one of them, and I am continually creeped out how the underground scene seems to look longingly into the past rather than into the present and future. How sad for me, I know. Anyway, this one comes in a sturdy gatefold, with a repressing of the original album in one slot and an extra LP of b-sides in the other. The first side is fairly simple, silly and unexciting, like Country Joe & The Fish or Dr. Hook & The Medicine Show or one of these other outlaw hippie freaks who would allow for a kazoo solo or two, singing about “Juicy Lucy” and whatever other ditties amused them in their doped-out haze. Not my thing at all, and then the b-side of the LP is mostly silence and frogs; it’s like a field recording of nothing, as if your stoned uncle called to leave you a voicemail (it’s only uncles who actually leave voicemail these days) and forgot to hang up. I was dreading the second LP, but it turns out it’s the most interesting part, a hazy collage of songs, song-bits, radio samples and Lord knows what else – just imagine “country music released by Kye” and you’re there. The second LP is a cool trip, but I can’t rightly say you need to go through the trouble of buying this thing to hear it. I kinda wish the Mighty Mouth and Ever/Never folks took their most estranged, unbalanced aunts and uncles to Applebee’s, got them fat on appetizers and loose on Coors and recorded and released all the nonsense they spat out while ESPN blares in the background from various TVs instead of this unnecessary reissue. Life can just be your own personal field recording if you want it to be.
Ulaan Markhor Spiral Horns, Black Onions, et al. LP (Soft Abuse)
Steven R. Smith has no difficulty coming up with band names that sound like Lord Of The Rings monsters, this being his third to start with the “Ulaan” moniker. He can just keep ’em coming for all I care, because this new one is really fantastic, just a beautiful album of uplifting, sun-kissed guitar-rock that locks into a groove, be it meditative or righteous, and fires it off toward the horizon. I think I’ve got the perfect comparison, actually: imagine if current-day Earth was led by Steve Gunn instead of Dylan Carlson and you’ll arrive somewhere within the orbit of Ulaan Markhor, with cyclical, pleasant riffs played with loose precision and a strange sense that the players are wise beyond their years, all with a solemn and undeniable heaviness. This one has been in my bin for a month or two now, and each time I try to write about it, I just get lost in its beauty and feel too good to settle into any words, but I forced myself this time, all because I want you to share in this joy with me.
Vanity Vain In Life LP (Katorga Works)
“Studio-project hardcore” is something I generally try to avoid, but Vanity’s Vain In Life album has me re-thinking my personal philosophy… it’s really that good. These two dudes went ahead and basically Jurassic Park’d Skrewdriver’s All Skrewed Up, taking its tempos, attitude, guitar sound, chord progressions, song structures and distinct vocal style and recreating them with startling precision. These two dudes are Americans, yet the singer even nails a “two fwee fouh!” when the song cuts out at one point! I suppose you could say there’s a bit of Rose Tattoo in here too, maybe even a subtle aftertaste of Ivy Green, but I have no doubt in my mind these guys were deliberate in this marvelous re-imagining of All Skrewed Up. I realize this all might sound like a bit of a turn-off to some, a band copying some notoriously racist band’s “pre-racist” album, but Vanity injects all their songs with the same sense of anger and catchiness that makes boots n’ braces punk-rock great, all without the guilt of listening to something sketchy. Although if it turns out that these guys join the Klan five years from now and later die in a car crash, I can’t say I didn’t see it coming.
Warthog Chain Wallet Demo 7″ (no label)
Most bands don’t need their demo pressed to vinyl, but Warthog makes a strong case for such treatment with theirs, five tracks from back when they still went by Chain Wallet. It showcases Warthog in their most basic, first-round approach, which is pretty great – Poison Idea urgency with a hint of Youth Attack! nihilism and a working knowledge of New York hardcore’s first wave (Antidote and Agnostic Front, let’s say). Not every band has the gall to come up with song titles like “Control”, “Pig” and “Shit”, but Warthog came up with all three. Their approach became more ferocious on the singles that followed this demo, but it’s nice to file this one right alongside them. I hope an album is on the way, as previously promised (they promised one, right?), but either way Warthog has already confirmed their place in the ’10s class of New York hardcore freaks.
Xetas The Silence / The Knife 7″ (12XU)
Austin’s 12XU label is an interesting one, handling Euro distribution for various big-indie titles in the early ’00s and in recent years, dedicating itself toward underground punk and indie, frequently within orbit of the Austin scene. It’s nice to know that thoughtful and interesting guitar-based music has a home like this, and much in the way Sub Pop fostered the cool Seattle scene in the late ’80s, 12XU releases random 7″s by local bands like Xetas, whom those of us outside of Texas might not have otherwise discovered. “The Silence” comes at messy early ’90s indie/noise-rock with a garage twang, with a metaphor about fruit for the chorus. “The Knife” is not an homage to the electro-Swedes, but a gruff pop-punker that calls to mind Dillinger Four or V. Reverse or some other portly Midwestern band that Sub City would’ve shown interest in a decade ago. I think I prefer Xetas in under-two-minutes pop mode, it’s just more fun and effective, but they’ve got an LP coming on 12XU and have plenty of time to stretch their legs in any direction they desire.
Normalised – The Detonic Collection compilation LP (Detonic)
Damn, sure is nice to see a smartly curated, high-quality compilation LP show up, particularly in this age where compilations are considerably less useful and more difficult to sell. This one comes from the young Detonic label, and it offers a great variety of mostly-unknown-to-me underground artists who tend to focus on the electronic / cold-wave / DIY industrial end of punk. Over the first side, I’m reminded of Void Vision, the Bippp compilation, and Crash Course In Science to name a few, and it wraps with the fantastic Men Oh Pause, who I’ve been meaning to check out – their demented take on shambolic DIY noise-rock is genius. Diesel Dudes kick off the b-side with a creeping Front 242 vibe, and even a band called “Trippple Nippples” kinda kicks ass, with an aggro Les Georges Leningrad vibe. There isn’t a dud track on here, and I’m so glad Normalised has me trying to figure out if any of these bands have other records out while I fantasize about them all hanging out together, which is pretty much the desired reaction of any good comp.
The American Jobs Carne Levare LP (Savage Quality)
Savage Quality is almost ten releases deep at this point, and I’m delighted to say I continue to feel a sensation of “where the hell did they find this?” upon spinning each record for the first time. Carne Levare by The American Jobs is a prime example, as this is bizarre lounge-y goth-rock that’s full of character,particularly in a genre where it often seems like bands purposely try not to stand out. With plenty of sax, pianos and additional percussion guiding the ghost ship, I frequently find myself picking up a Slaves vibe (the turn-of-the-millenium ex-VSS band – it’s about time someone sounded like them!). The American Jobs are playing goth-rock for the bacchanal, not the funeral – “Black Tar” is the type of track you’d expect to hear wafting out of an expensive Sonos player as a naked man with a white python on his shoulders dances over to the baby grand, where a woman in pearls is perched, playing the high notes with her toes. Naturally, I like it! I’m even reminded of Darkside at certain points, when The American Jobs lock into a slow-motion cocaine-groove, even though they were probably listening to Eyeless In Gaza and Death In June for inspiration. None of Carne Levare feels like a put-on, so when there’s a track that’s just singing, sax, piano and birds tweeting, you can’t help but search for Eyes Wide Shut masks on eBay, even if you don’t actually place a bid.
Blazing Eye Blazing Eye 7″ (Overdose)
Hardcore cannot live on cassette alone, so it was great to see Blazing Eye make their way onto vinyl after one of the hottest hardcore demos of the last year. They’re a Los Angeles hardcore quartet who are clearly obsessed with Japanese hardcore, but a very specific strain of such – the more metallic, fearsome end of things, of which Zouo, G.I.S.M. and Outo are prominent. It’s all in the vocals, really – the singer has clearly mastered the intimidating bark of Cherry Nishida and the mangled mutant scowl of Sakevi, much more than any other hardcore band of the past couple decades that I can recall, and that’s probably at least half of the reason I’m raving about Blazing Eye right now. The other half is the music, which doesn’t reach Unlawful Hardcore Assembly speeds, but rather pogos itself straight to hell, clearly following the hardcore drum-structure that Hoax set into motion as the modern default a couple years ago. It’s simple stuff, but also highly effective – who doesn’t want to jump up and down while the son of Satan scalds your face with his hot breath? And the strangely psychedelic guitar leads on “Devil” reveal plenty of room for Blazing Eye to expand their sound without sapping the energy from their core. I can only hope more records are on the way!
Bruce Not Stochastic 12″ (Hessle Audio)
I pretty much flipped for the other 12″ Bruce dropped, and when I saw that he was already working with the formidable Hessle Audio team, who could rightfully deny it? Well, maybe I got a little ahead of myself, because while this three-track EP is cool, it’s not doing it for me quite like the other. “Not Stochastic” was apparently some heavily-mixed track (a guy whose name rhymes with “Roy Orbison” apparently took a strong liking in particular), and it has a nice effervescent feel as it tumbles by, but nothing really happens? It’s like one interesting part, looped endlessly and mixed at different volume levels, and while I dig the same tricky use of monotony when displayed by labelmates Bandshell or Elgato, it’s not quite doing it for me here. “Trip” has even less going on, and while it would make for an excellent primer coat (you know, before the painting actually begins), it’s kind of bland on its own. “My Legs Wouldn’t Go Quick Enough” brings in a bit more excitement, with a fluctuating beat and a high tone hovering in the clouds, but I can’t tell if it’s actually lively or just in comparison to its neighbors. Definitely eager for more Bruce, because why not, but I can safely say that only the deepest post-techno tweakers need to locate this one.
Chevel Tank / Beaviane 12″ (Mistry)
I actually checked out this Chevel 12″ for a silly reason – I couldn’t help but think of the late ’90s alt-metal band Chevelle and laugh at the idea of them reincarnated as a post-dubstep act. That’s all it takes for me to pick up a record sometimes! To be fair though, I knew the new Mistry label is on a pretty cool tip, so again I say, why not? I’m glad I did, because “Tank” is quality modern experimental bass music. There aren’t a whole lot of sounds clogging the mix, just one thick brown slab of down-tuned bass chords, a popped soap bubble and a Ginsu hi-hat, all of which eventually falls aside to drift anchorless before coming back to shore. “Beaviane” drops a heavy set of drums from the get-go, like something off Demdike Stare’s Testpressing series, and soon enough a robust kick sends all glassware flying off your speakers, vibrating not just your downstairs neighbor but the guy who lives in the basement too. Two highly enjoyable tracks, both very much in the hyper-modern realm of Boomkat techno, but not so specific as to lose their flavor a couple months from now. I see that Chevel has a pretty deep discography too, dating back a few years… do I dare dig for more?
Cold Foamers All Cold Everything LP (Slugsalt)
Proud to say I live in a city where unintentionally-charming indie-rock bands like Cold Foamers can announce their existence through a sharp DIY-with-friends album like this one. I had never heard of them before, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for their name in the show listings now, as they play a style of music I don’t often gravitate toward (nerdy introverted indie-rock) but they do it so well I can’t help but find myself a little smitten. I’m frequently reminded of Modest Mouse, Pavement, Lovesick and Whatever Brains throughout this record, but there’s something about the way Cold Foamers approach their songs that seems entirely their own. Their pacing probably has something to do with it – they play their songs slow, quite slower than other bands would, which often results in weird stoner grooves I wouldn’t have normally expected. When their dork-voiced rock songs are forced into this sort of Bedhead / Screaming Trees pacing, Cold Foamers take on an almost grunge-like groove, and it hits this sweet zone where their catchy hooks can stretch their legs in between dorm-room bong hits. This all makes for one beautifully ugly album, one that I can’t help but love, warts and all.
CP/M Hang / Intl 7″ (no label)
If there’s a different city I’d entrust with Seattle’s legacy of unhappy grunge-rock, it’s gotta be Baltimore – seems like at least fifty groups of heavy-rocking, beer-swilling basement dwellers have come out of there in the past ten years, from the slick semi-professional (Roomrunner) to the inebriated and nihilistic (The New Flesh) and all shades in-between. CP/M is an interesting new entry, perhaps shaping up to be the TAD of Baltimore, with maybe a sprinkle of the first couple Earth records that no one ever thought twice about when they first came out. “Hang” is a fitting title because the riff seems to just, umm, hang in the air, moving up and down the neck of the bass and the guitar playing it, with strained Albini-esque vocals and some random samples peppered in (they add a nice touch of chaos to the somewhat formal riffing). “Intl” almost has a Twin Stumps vibe, in the way the riff sounds like rust being scraped off a steamliner, and it’s even more unwavering in its approach. If you put Clockcleaner and Harvey Milk in a room together, I bet they’d all be too awkward to actually talk to each other, and somewhere within that tension do CP/M exist.
Dreamsalon Soft Stab LP (Dragnet / Sweet Rot)
Within the lush and humid forests of the Pacific Northwest, heavy post-punk art-rock has been thriving like moss, and Dreamsalon are one of its most recent growths. I know they are ex-Love Tan and ex-Intelligence (and maybe an A Frame, or that’s just wishful thinking?), and Soft Stab is a pretty good album. While their influences might date to the late ’70s and early ’80s (or not, I’m just guessing), they sound pretty contemporary, as bands like Nots, Evening Meetings, Guinea Worms, Mordecai and Naomi Punk all come to mind while Soft Stab spins. It certainly has that “Sweet Rot” sound, which is to say, slightly aggressive, slightly noisy, more-than-a-little weird garage-rock that makes few concessions to the mainstream (while still tidy and respectable enough as to receive considerable KEXP airtime). While you might stumble upon the occasional wacked-out sound effect within Soft Stab, I’m pretty sure this is a synth-free record, and Dreamsalon are entirely capable to create their post-punk in this traditional format. I mentioned eight other bands in this review, and if you enjoy four or more of them, I recommend you start typing “Dreamsalon Bandcamp” into your search bar immediately – I won’t even be offended if you close this tab.
Elli And Bev Might Not Look Like It To You 12″ (Albert’s Basement / Quemada)
Always nice to receive a new transmission from the Albert’s Basement / Quemada camp, and this one is as quietly delicate as any, another soft hand-knitted sock draped across the couch. The name “Elli And Bev” makes me think of two old friends, ostensibly blue-haired senior citizens with reserved seats at bingo night, and while the two behind this project surely have the better part of their lives ahead of them, that same sort of adorable camaraderie is evident here. Their songs often start with the buzz of a tiny electric organ or clink of an even tinier drum machine, followed with some softly-spoken vocals and maybe a guitar or two. Mood-wise, it has kind of a minimal indie-pop feel, but on the dirge end of things, like whatever the slowest 14 Iced Bears song is, or Brighter at their most ominous. Or perhaps Tori Kudo overseeing production of a new Floating Di Morel album? Might Not Look Like It To You is far simpler than all these comparisons I’m throwing about, but it’s a simplicity that leads to such wild dreaming, and I like it.
Face The Rail Learning To Die LP (Katorga Works)
Upping the ante from “punks standing in front of a brick wall”, Face The Rail opt for “punks hanging in a cave” for their album photos, and the change is appreciated. Don’t expect any sort of cave-sounding punk, though – Face The Rail are speedy, downer-melodic hardcore-punk more akin to foreclosed suburban developments and oil-stained 24-hour convenience stores than any sort of erosion-formed habitat. They’re pretty tight, and have found their own musical voice, one that leaves plenty of room for lightly-distorted (and heavily flanged) guitars and rapid-fire melodic leads. Sure, there’s a good deal of Bad Religion, Minor Threat and The Adolescents in their sound, but I’m also picking up Hüsker Dü and the fast-hardcore end of late ’80s emo, like The Hated or Rites Of Spring at their most ferocious. Face The Rail are songwriters, too, not just stylists, and they’ve crafted a surprisingly mature and well-considered album in Learning To Die. Go on, Face The Rail, son; hear what’s written there.
Fallopian Disco Force Black Larvenroller LP (Ill Yacumama)
Did I stutter? This is Fallopian Disco Force I’m talking about. They’re a Japanese band that verges on art-collective, and their energy is palpable, from their eye-popping cover collages to the crazy music they create. Their bio claims that they have shared the stage with Ruins and Melt Banana on numerous occasions, and I can certainly picture that – on Black Larvenroller, the ‘Disco Force sound like Astral Social Club or Leprechaun Catering raised on hours of Lightning Bolt and Boredoms YouTube videos. Which is to say, there is plenty of octopus-armed drumming to carry the various homemade noise-boxes, modified guitars and duct-taped synths forward. It’s been a while since I heard this sort of thing (and part of me is depressed to know that Load isn’t releasing nearly as much of this stuff as they used to), and maybe it’s just the flashy cover and attitude that is sucking me in, but I think Fallopian Disco Force are pretty fantastic. Weirdness like this never goes out of style.
James Fella Weak Left Input LP (Gilgongo)
I gotta say, it’s pretty cool that when I or any other nerds I know think of “underground music from Arizona”, James Fella and his Gilgongo label would gather top points, Family Feud-style. He’s a fine representative of a state the rest of us have little interest in visiting, and it’s cool that his energy remains tireless, even in all that dry heat. Weak Left Input is a reissue of a cassette that was released in 2009, then on CD in 2014, and now in edited form on vinyl. All I can think is, why? I haven’t heard either of the earlier extended versions, but this is an album of fairly standard Thurston Moore- or Bruce Russell-style guitar drone / manipulation. I can easily render the mental image of a daisy-chain of pedals clicked on and off and Fella crouched over them, his back to whatever audience may have been present. It’s fine, but can’t you just make more of this whenever you want? Save reissues for Led Zeppelin and Phish on Record Store Day, why not churn out some more, perhaps better, sun-baked guitar improvisations rather than pay to press it again? And if it’s from 2009, surely you’re onto something cooler and more interesting by now anyway, right? I do not understand Fella’s intentions, but just as we have the freedom to not buy Weak Left Input if we don’t want to, he has the freedom to keep on pressing it, Bluray coming soon.
The Frightening Lights The Frightening Lights LP (Bruit Direct Disques)
So when you’re in a band, it sucks if people keep comparing you over and over to the same specific band, usually one that you never particularly set out to sound like in the first place, even if that other band is good. Well, sorry The Frightening Lights, I know how it feels, but I’ll be damned if you don’t sound almost exactly like Hope Sandoval & The Warm Intentions. I sit around all day listening to music and picking apart its subtle differences, and even as I consider myself a Hope Sandoval fan, I could’ve been easily tricked here if someone told me this was some lost Hope Sandoval session from 2001 or something. Elizabeth Downey softly strums darkly romantic, red-wine-appropriate chords on her guitar and coos in a breathy, curiously wounded voice I thought only one other person on Earth possessed, with various spirals of organ and bass evaporating into the chilly night air around her. It’s a lovely record, but it kind of feels like going on a date with the doppelganger of an ex – it would be really nice if it wasn’t so eerie.
Fugazi First Demo 12″ (Dischord)
Ah cool, been meaning to check this band out! But seriously, Dischord’s archives are so rich with groundbreaking American music that I don’t mind their shift toward reissues, and if you’re complaining about it, you need to go watch the news or something and find something actually worthy of outrage. That said, I never really listened to Fugazi (either a punishable offense or a lucky break, depending on who you ask these days), unless you count hearing “Waiting Room” played for a few seconds prior to every NPR segment about healthcare. I recently watched Instrument though, a sort of self-forced schooling, and while I find their music to be okay, cool, kind of dull or way too funky (depending on the moment), it was certainly nice to see so many baggy-panted freaks dancing Peanuts-style on stage with them, not to mention all the ethics they instilled in punk that we can now ignore and/or take for granted. So I guess really, you tell me: do you want to hear Fugazi’s first demo?
Glacial23 Untitled 12″ (Savage Quality)
Savage Quality has been wowing me since their inception, but it was only a matter of time before our tastes diverged, which can be pinpointed through the existence of this 12″ by Northeast Ohio techno artist Glacial23. Nevermind that the name sounds like a username I would’ve talked to in AOL Emo Chat in 1998 – Glacial23 is purely a techno project, and maybe that’s part of my problem. All of this four-track EP just sounds like Acid Techno 101, the most basic, primary-color techno one can hear. If a community college offered a “make your own techno” class, I could picture these tracks being turned in as final projects, and while they’d receive passing grades, it makes for a very boring listen to anyone who has heard anything like this before. And yet amazingly, Glacial23 has been releasing music out for years! There are no tricks up their sleeves, no intriguing twist, no foreign sound-banks, just the basics. I’m sure Northeast Ohio is lucky to have someone like this, to throw parties and help create a scene where there might not be one otherwise, but for me, listening to Glacial23 is like getting psyched on going to a Levi’s outlet: if I have to go with a friend who needs cheap jeans, that’s fine, just don’t expect me to get excited about it.
Jock Club After Hours LP (540)
Jock Club is the work of Andrew Flores, a Phoenix-based guy perhaps more famously in the psych-rock band Destruction Unit, and this is his tech-house project. I’m feeling pretty conflicted about After Hours, his first proper LP, so I’ll go ahead and explain. On one hand, it seems pretty evident that this is poseur-house of the highest order. The beats and sound-banks are all boring pre-sets with little thought behind them (and the dull “slowly add another aspect until the track ends” song construction is constant), and while I hate the criticism of “I could do that” when it comes to any form of music, I’ve messed around with samplers and drum machines too, and well, I could make something this rudimentary and basic in a couple hours too; we all could. And judging from the fact that he has released fifteen “albums” (Discogs’s term, not mine or his) since 2013, clearly Jock Club values quantity over quality. Song titles like “Berlin ’94 (vocal mix)” and “Late Night Nile Cruise”…. gimme a break, an advanced computer algorithm could come up with less-generic dance titles. But on the other hand, perhaps vapid, thoughtless and obvious dance music tropes are the point of Jock Club, a sort of ugly mirror held up to the dance world, forcing its empty homogeny to a scrutinous re-examination? And this is more of an artistic commentary than a work of music? That’d be alright, but I’m just gonna assume Flores does Jock Club because it’s fun and easy, and while I can completely appreciate those reasons, I would’ve been better off not hearing it.
Kalmex & The Riffmerchants / Bastard Noise Ultra Sonic Holocaust LP (Hear More)
Wow, now here’s a record that only a tiny fraction of the population will be interested in, but those select few will be delighted. It’s the long-awaited/delayed collaboration of Kalmex & The Riffmerchants (of Plutocracy fame) and Bastard Noise. The sad story of its process is outlined in the fancy booklet that comes with this one, and for as strange and psychedelic as the cover art is, it still doesn’t prepare us for the bizarre music within. Essentially, it’s Kalmex & The Riffmerchants playing songs with Bastard Noise providing instrumental interludes, but all sense of genre and aesthetics are pretty much blown out of the window. This is definitely not a power-violence record! An epic prog-thrash groove will lead into a No Less-inspired dank-core jam, and the next thing you know, you’re listening to some sort of Jethro Tull rip with gore-grind vocals… which leads into some sort of unholy Queensrÿche / Linkin Park mashup. It’s psychedelic in a negative way, like a purposely bad trip because good trips no longer have any effect on Kalmex’s damaged neurons, where dollar-bin metal records mingle with the Slap A Ham discography and generic rock radio. I was hoping for more of a Bastard Noise presence (sadly, Eric Wood doesn’t pick up the bass once), but once I became accustomed to the mangled thrash, collaged noise and weirdo crossover metal served on Ultra Sonic Holocaust, I started to enjoy myself, perhaps a little too much.
Lair Lair LP (Surveillance Investments)
Doesn’t seem to matter how much the rent goes up, Boston will always be crawling with strange underground rock bands, like Lair for instance. This is their debut LP, and it’s a pretty cool melange of classic underground rock sounds (Wire and Mission Of Burma, let’s day) and groups that veer further off the straight and narrow path, like Devo (and maybe even a slight hint of Lightning Bolt). I’m frequently reminded of Yamantaka // Sonic Titan when listening to Lair, in the way that both bands seem to tie down wildly-spiraling prog-rock moves with heavy drums and guitars, but I get the feeling that Lair are the more down to Earth of the two, like they probably just wear jeans and t-shirts on stage in comparison to Yamantaka // Sonic Titan’s capes and facepaint. I’m just guessing here, but I bet Lair look as comfortable perusing slacks at J Crew as they do the “New Arrivals – Used” bin at Weirdo Records, surely enjoying their ability to fit into various levels of society.
Rüdiger Lorenz Invisible Voices LP (Anthology Recordings)
I love it when I check out some random reissue of a private-press electronic-music record from the late ’70s / early ’80s and it sounds eerily fresh and modern, like the artist was truly ahead of their time. Nice as that is, Rüdiger Lorenz’s Invisible Voices isn’t one of those albums: it’s from 1983, and it sounds like it could’ve only been made in 1983. His keyboards, arpeggios and modulated sound-effects vary in heaviness from cloud to pillow, and the melodies they provide range from dark n’ stormy to jubilant. Not a stretch to say that Lorenz is following in the footsteps of Edgar Froese and Klaus Schulze, not breaking new ground but rather setting up a nice little picnic on the fields Froese and Schulze had freshly mowed. It’s fine, but I don’t really understand the point of this reissue, unless there is some sort of vinyl-industry directive to make sure every obscure record from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s is once again lining the shelves. Chances are if you are reading this blog, you have a friend who is making music similar to Lorenz without the backing of a vinyl reissue campaign, so why not go support them with your time and money instead? Unless you need to hear every ambient-prog private-press synth record, that seems like a better solution. Lorenz passed away in 2000, he isn’t going to care.
M//R Gathering Response Data 12″ (Great Circles)
The pristine Great Circles label steps up their packaging game with silk-screened jackets for this newest batch, and it’s a fitting upgrade for the vinyl debut of Philadelphia’s M//R (although he recently moved to the suburbs and well, I’d be lying if I said that didn’t sting). M//R certainly fits in with the rest of the Great Circles boys though, coming at techno not from the club but the abandoned office space across the highway from the club, running a couple samplers and a broken drum machine off stolen electricity for the entertainment of a couple dozen like-minded individuals. He offers four tracks here, starting with the off-kilter acid swabs of “Adjacent Possible”, a disorienting experience until the kick arrives and you realize you’ve been dancing in 4/4 all along. “Texas Acid” sadly bears little resemblance to Rednex, darting about like electronic ants in a motherboard colony, whereas the flip showcases the patient Joey Anderson-esque chug of “Honey Single” and lastly the after-hours sneak of “Panthers 1”, a Tin Man-esque sad-acid squiggle tip-toeing with a syrupy vocal declaring “here I am”. It’s easy for me to want to support these hometown heroes, I know them and they’re cool, but when the music is as tight as this, I start to wonder if I shouldn’t also learn a few new dance moves out of respect. Time to step up my robot.
(New England) Patriots / Palberta Special Worship LP (Feeding Tube)
For those in need, here’s some more fresh weirdness outta the Boston area. I was previously familiar with neither, but it turns out they’re a good pairing of modern no-wave skronk-rock, and while that scene seems to have mostly dried up, these bands make a solid case for its timeless coolness. (New England) Patriots have a funny name and make some beautifully disjointed art-rock, with plenty of clean-channel guitar warbling, repetitive math-rock rhythms and a vocalist who sounds like he crawled out of a test-tube, wildly ranting in lieu of physical dominance. It sounds a hell of a lot like The Crainium to me, and as I can only really take The Crainium in short doses, the three (New England) Patriots tracks here are the perfect serving. Speaking of bizarre DC bands, Palberta remind me of a mix of Meltdown and Et At It, rifling through bits and pieces of riffs with the occasional damaged guitar solo ala Daniel Martin-McCormick (let’s just keep the DC comparisons going). Lovely music indeed. Skip that next set of unearthed Mars demo recordings and step into the now with these two instead!
Nots We Are Nots LP (Goner)
My interview with Nots guitarist/vocalist Natalie Hoffman had me really hankering for their debut album, and now that I’ve had ample time to crank it over and over, I can say that whatever Nots album I imagined in my head pales in comparison to the real deal. Beautifully simple, three-chord garage-punk is much like chocolate chip cookies, in that the results can vary wildly depending on the specific ingredients and preparation, and Nots absolutely nail it here (We Are Nots is the perfect mix of chewy and hard). Most riffs are simplistic, minor-key repetitions, most drums involve a floor-tom for time-keeping (I saw them live and was astonished that the drummer’s right arm never fell off), and the vocals never waver in delivery, a spoken snarl often backed by the rest of the band in some sort of intimidating chant. It wouldn’t be incorrect to file them under the Urinals / Dangerhouse lineage, but Alexandra Eastburn’s synth constantly squirts in ways unlike most “synth-punk” bands, and while it’s ever-present, Nots never feel like anything besides a tough and frustrated guitar-based post-punk group, not The Screamers or Devo or something. We Are Nots gets a little samey, for sure, but if I could attain that specific level of sweet sameness, I’d extend it over eleven tracks too.
Objekt Flatland 2xLP (Pan)
Objekt came on strong in the late 2013 / early 2014 season with a steady sampling of his unique form of razor-sharp industrial techno, so it was with baited breath that I received Flatland, his debut album. So many of my favorite EP-length techno producers often sink when it comes to the long-playing format, and I can understand it’s not easy to maintain that sort of single-based mentality while providing the depth and cohesion an album demands, but I’m relieved to say Flatland was executed with poise and precision – it’s a real treat. Through these eleven tracks, Objekt scales the spectrum, from elastic ambient sputtering to full-on juggernaut techno beats. Flatland never sits in one place too long, nor does it suffer from any sort of ADD either. At times, Objekt’s snare/clap feels so relentlessly prickly, and the BPM always seems just one beat faster than appropriate, that his music causes actual stress – I’d imagine listening to this album while taking any sort of test would assuredly result in a lower score than otherwise. That’s becoming his signature though, abrasive beats that act as sonic paper-cuts, slashing with mechanical precision or obliterating like a rogue Vitamix. I’m tempted to throw a tomato at Flatland just to see what kind of sauce it makes, but I’ve yet to find the courage.
Piano Movers Girlfriend’s Lover / Downtown 2day 7″ (Fruits & Flowers)
Discovering that Piano Movers is the work of Anthony Atlas (of Nodzzz fame) and his buddy Pete Hilton on the drums was like scratching off a lottery ticket and winning twenty bucks – what a nice surprise! These guys have been playing music together since the early ’00s thrash of Down In Flames, and while they have sufficiently mellowed with age, a song as sweetly weird as “Girlfriend’s Lover” is worth the descent into maturity. It’s the simplest sort of easy-breezy guitar pop you can imagine, like Ween at their softest with Home Blitz’s naïveté and Jonathan Richman’s sweetness. A good replacement for those who want to enjoy Mac Demarco’s music but are put-off by the sleazy persona, perhaps? “Downtown 2day” has more of the great “confident nerd” vibe, although it doesn’t serve the same level of disarming pop bliss as “Girlfriend’s Lover”. But what really does?
Pigeon Religion Warm Insides / No Boundaries 7″ (Gilgongo)
Gilgongo decided to spend their hard-earned money on a 7″ reissue of a 2008 cassette by the defunct Phoenix sludge-rock band Pigeon Religion, and well, it’s not how I would’ve spent mine. I always thought they were one of the bands that helped speed up the process of killing the Brainbombs-inspired dirgy noise-punk trend, just by doing such a half-assed job of it, and while it’s been a few years since I last listened to them, that memory quickly resurfaces upon spinning this single. If I wanted to hear the vocal melody of Flipper’s “I Saw You Shine” over some plodding anti-musical riff, I’d just listen to Flipper, but Pigeon Religion offer a similar work without any flair. “No Boundaries” on the flip takes a pop-punk riff and gives it the noise-dirge treatment to equally unexciting results. I don’t know, what am I missing here? This sort of music seems intentionally bad, like falsely bad, yet just as thoughtless as certain forms of actual bad music, and it’s a formula that just really rubs me the wrong way, particularly to imagine that people are paying money to press it on vinyl, presumably out of some sort of friendship or social impulse rather than true musical enjoyment. I am just glad I don’t have to think about this band again, at least until the next one of their tapes is reissued on vinyl and sneaks itself onto my turntable. I gotta get some chicken-wire or something.
Portable Surrender 12″ (Live At Robert Johnson)
You know, Portable’s “Life Magically Is” is one of my favorite techno tracks of all time, so I try to keep up with what he’s doing, but I checked out his recent Sportable 12″ on Perlon and found it so uninspiring that I never got around to writing about it. Just when I thought all hope was lost, Portable dropped “Surrender” on me, and it stung my icy heart like Cupid’s arrow. You’re not gonna hear a more beautiful and romantic house cut this year, or most others – Portable just devastates with the sweet heartbreaking vulnerability displayed here. Probably doesn’t hurt that Portable (that’s him and not frequent collaborator Lcio singing, right?) sounds a hell of a lot like Daughn Gibson on this one, but he floats his voice through weeping flutes, synthetic African drums and a melody that could make Brock Lesnar cry. The 12″ version just comes backed with an instrumental and an acapella, and while I needed to own it, you can take the easy route and go find the music video for it, rife with hot air balloons over a breathtaking landscape. Just make sure you have a loved one close by that you can hug and cry into.
Pura Mania La Estafa Musical 7″ (Cvrecs)
Judging from the evil money-grubbing rat on the cover of this 7″, I was expecting to hear some filthy noise-core punk or something within its orbit, but Pura ManÃa aren’t going the ear-bleeding route for their punk rock. Rather, they fly through some tight-yet-tuneful hardcore-punk that doesn’t substitute melody for power. I’m reminded of classic “international” hardcore when I listen to this EP, specifically N.O.T.A. and D.O.A. (and surely other acronym-based hardcore). Gruff, shouted vocals take the lead over moderately-paced tunes that manage to make their somewhat longer running length (three-minutes on average) feel appropriate. They’re a Vancouver band doing it all in Spanish, what’s not to like?
Pura Mania Música Para Gente Fea 7″ (Cvrecs)
Nope, not a typo, Pura ManÃa released another 7″ along with the other. Perhaps an LP would’ve made a lot more sense, financially and physically, but hey, they’re doing their own thing, and if they want to release a set of four 5″s instead, I’m not going to stop them. I think I actually prefer this single of the two: the first track “Sospechoso” has this beautiful chiming guitar lead that I’d expect out of No Hope For The Kids or The Clash even, but Pura ManÃa are claiming this one for themselves, busting down the doors of Tim Hortons in their jean jackets and chains-for-belts. The vocals are starting to remind me a bit of the guy from RF7’s throaty bark, maybe with a touch of the Raw Power guy, but yeah, no matter who you end up hearing in Pura ManÃa there’s no denying their time-tested hardcore style.
Ritual Mess Vile Art LP (Clean Plate / Adagio 830)
Don’t you just hate a ritual mess, like when you’re sipping from the blood of Christ and it accidentally dribbles onto your khakis? It’s a decent name, but it would’ve been far more useful if this band went with “Orchid 2.0”, as they have at least three Orchid dudes in it (I cannot be expected to remember four Orchid member names, I just can’t) and it’s ripping in a very similar style. In fact, I kinda wish Ritual Mess happened right after Chaos Is Me, or maybe the 10″ that followed, because there is no unfortunate International Noise Conspiracy-styled “revolution” nonsense here, just an ugly smear of spastic emo-core indebted to One Eyed God Prophecy and Uranus. I suppose there are more nods to early ’80s hardcore in here than Orchid ever revealed, but those moments are brief within the flailing limbs and heavy riffs that fill up Vile Art. It’s amazing how Ritual Mess seems to have picked up so smoothly from Orchid nearly a decade later, and I’m quite glad they did! After all, the less time vocalist Jayson Green is given to spend with Violent Bullshit, the better. This is where he belongs.
Roomrunner Separate 12″ (Accidental Guest)
Roomrunner did some interview with SPIN like a year or so ago, where they were lamenting their lack of success in this endearingly pitiful way. It was the sort of bold honesty underground rock bands rarely allow themselves in an interview, and while I already considered myself a Roomrunner fan, that kinda sealed the deal. That vibe plays into this new EP too, as they provide an alternate reality where Foo Fighters were broke and kept their belongings in their parents’ basements instead of care-free millionaires. Roomrunner have cleaned up considerably on this new one, continuing to raise the vocals in the mix and reducing the fuzz when the choruses invariably kick into their heavy grooves. I’m almost reminded of Quicksand at times, the way Roomrunner effortlessly skip through a gooey rhythm, and songs like “Push Down + Turn” reveal a more nuanced ear for melody than they’ve ever shared before. Killer record, and if Roomrunner do end up somehow becoming rock-star millionaires, I hope they manage to retain some of their sad-sack misery in the process.
Spray Paint Clean Blood, Regular Acid LP (Monofonus Press)
Spray Paint have been kicking their knotty post-punk around Austin for a few years now, but what do you know, this is my first time hearing them. I always heard them described as some sort of searing dual-guitar attack, like they scorched speakers in a manner similar to Aufgehoben covering Arab On Radar (don’t I wish), so I was surprised to hear that they are pretty middle-of-the-road when it comes to their fidelity, attitude, musicianship and annoyance level. I’m listening to Clean Blood, Regular Acid right now, and while the title is clunky, these songs all jab pretty quickly, using familiar notes and progressions and their inherent monotony to chip away at our senses. I’m reminded of Naomi Punk (but not as fuzzy or noisy) and early No Age (but not as catchy) throughout this record, bands that apply the pessimistic gloom of post-punk to basic garage-rock sonics, dashed up with the experience that a healthy record collection brings (surely one of these guys goes digging). Can’t say I’m ready to learn graffiti in homage to this group, but I’ll take a quick spritz of this album every now and then… why not?
Andy Stott Faith In Strangers 2xLP (Modern Love)
Ah yes, just in time for every indie music critic to listen through once and then add it to their year-end best-of list, Andy Stott is back. Don’t get me wrong, I’m right there with the rest of ’em, as Faith In Strangers is undeniably good. What impresses me most is that Stott is somehow able to move forward from the post-industrial techno of his last last three, progressing naturally (but also clearly progressing). On this one, Stott takes it nice and slow, with drones befitting Tor Lundvall opening the record and passing throughout, showcasing smartly disassembled trap beats gliding like a tank on a frozen lake. The frequent vocals of Alison Skidmore are present once again, and they add a somber beauty to Stott’s beleaguered trip-hop rhythms and glacial grooves. And he still manages to mix it up with the Morphosis-like “Science And Industry”, even if it’s “Violence” that makes me want to trick out my car stereo and just drive around looking for red lights to wait at. I wouldn’t have held it against him if he was all out of ideas at this point – Stott has already graced us with three future classics – but I’m starting to get the impression he’s going to continue to impress long into the future, so long as one exists.
The Stroke Band Green And Yellow LP (Anthology Recordings)
Sorry to disappoint, this isn’t yet another Julian Casablancas solo venture, but rather a reissue of an obscure rock group from South Georgia in the late ’70s. The Stroke Band feature art-rock lifer Don Fleming and some of his friends from high school, and it’s a surprisingly sophisticated and debonaire album of off-kilter glam-rock power-pop. I’m reminded of Mike Rep and Pere Ubu, if not necessarily sonically but in spirit, as The Stroke Band share a similar fascination with all forms of rock, be it past, future or present, seemingly unaware of their station as underdogs that will never achieve the fame their hooks demand. I’m also picking up some Brian Protheroe and T. Rex vibes, music coming from a time when the hippie movement had firmly failed and it wasn’t safe to be a weirdo on the street, particularly in South Georgia. Green And Yellow is cool, and while it hasn’t inspired me deeply enough to flip through the twenty page “comprehensive oral history” that comes along with it, maybe I’m just one rainy afternoon away.
Veiled Testimoni 12″ (Anòmia)
I released a Veiled 12″ a couple months ago, and Anòmia, a label run by Veiled’s Arnau Sala, quickly followed it with this one. How cute of us, right? Anyway, Veiled continue to move further from their initial blacklight basement-rave electro sound toward the industrial-techno sewer system that runs beneath the warehouse. On this one, they offer an ambient dirge ala Andy Stott (“Enterrar La Memòria”), a drippy techno jam ala Rrose (“Residual Static”), a blackened house cut ala Jamal Moss (“Testimoni”) and an echo-laced drum machine workout ala Beau Wanzer (“Washing The Surface”). It’s varied but also singular, all the tracks circling the same bleak drain with greyscale sonics and static as a musical instrument. It’s easy for me to get excited about Veiled, knowing what cool and authentic lovers of transgressive techno they are, but those of you who will never meet the men of Veiled in person will have just as easy a time digging into the soiled grooves of Testimoni.
Chris Weisman Monet In The 90’s LP (OSR Tapes)
Chris Weisman is somehow related to the King Tuff gang (cousins? best friends? it remains unclear), and I enjoyed the dense double-LP release he had on Feeding Tube a year or two ago. This new one picks right up, and just like Fresh Sip, it opens with its stand-out track, this time being “Working On My Skateboarding”. It could be a pop hit if anyone outside of Weisman’s Facebook friends heard it, but I’m sure Weisman doesn’t particularly care, he just wants to write tunes. The rest of the album sort of plays out like Benjamin Button, slowly getting more and more cutesy/fragile/childish until it’s like you’re listening to an adorable baby cooing on a toy ukelele. But through that trip, these friendly little micro-pop songs are mostly a delight, even if you don’t have a toddler on your lap to clap along with. Someone’s gotta hook up the youth with quality guitar/piano pop, and if I were Dan Zanes I’d start watching my back.
Hartley C. White This Is Not What You Expect LP (OSR Tapes)
Mr. White isn’t kidding around – no one could possibly expect an album as uniquely strange as this one, following his own creative path not just in lyrics, melodies or tone but in the very nature of song structure itself. Seriously, this guy is on his own trip, and it’s a delight to hear, even if I can only comprehend half of it. I’d say he falls somewhere between The Ziggy Stardust Band, The Last Poets and a Tim & Eric supporting actor. It’s quite silly (dollar-store drum machines, squealing sax, honked horns, probably a keytar), but you’d be a fool to call this a joke – White is clearly taking himself as serious as Prurient, and I can’t help but do the same. It’s as if he writes his lyrics first, spouts them off in whatever jagged cadence he decides fits best, and then the music is written around that, no matter how incongruous or disjointed it may sound. Fans of Johnny Noise, Mad Nanna, Television Personalities, Fuckin’ Flyin’ A-Heads, Smelly Feet, etc. in need of a strong fix of weird look no further – Hartley C. White comes highly recommended!
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