Ajax Bleach For Breakfast 7″ (no label)
Ajax is a New York hardcore band that sounds like a classic Boston hardcore band, the sort of moral quandary that baseball rivalries were built upon. I hadn’t heard them before this, their demo put to wax, and it’s some top-shelf ripping hardcore-punk! They’re highly reminiscent of The Boston Strangler, just less-frequently laundered and shaved, and if Ajax had a song about soda pop I’d modify that to say they are direct descendants of Last Rights. Still, I want to make it clear that Ajax aren’t just another highly effective carbon copy – rather, they sound as if they are digging the same influences that caused Negative FX and Negative Approach to sound like they did, which is to say the Riot City / No Future riff catalog sped up far beyond the capacity of any English group. Five songs here, and they’re all quite sharp. Gotta say though, the art of Alexander Heir is becoming so damn ubiquitous… I know it looks great and all, but it makes for a duller hardcore experience when everyone is using the same person for their art all the time. I’m sure the hardcore-punks back in 2002 thought it was super smart to get Michael Bukowski to do their art, and well just take a look at the Caustic Christ / R.A.M.B.O. split 7″ and tell me what you think.
Arca Xen LP (Mute)
Arca is the of-the-moment hot producer, so insanely fresh that even as I type this he’s probably being replaced by someone else with access to prototypes of music software that have yet to exist. He’s worked with Kanye West and FKA Twigs to much fanfare, and striking out on his own, Arca seems to be wildly clicking away on his laptop, to entertaining results. Of the fifteen tracks here, I don’t think you’ll find a single song, but that’s part of the fun: Arca is content to mess around with a sound until it burns up, cools off or simply barfs all over itself. He’ll take one Tiesto-grade millisecond snippet and tickle it to death, upload that file into Mario Paint, replace the bass-hits with Yoshis, reverse-upload that back onto his Macbook 2019 and then image map it to a Burial WAV file. And then the next track will be a James Ferraro-esque study in “how stupid can I make synthetic violins sound?”. It amazes me that more than a hundred people on Earth want to hear music as fractured, strange and pointless as this, but that’s the beauty of modern life – people are more easily tricked into thinking something is cool than ever before. Which probably includes me, because I like Xen.
Ausmuteants Fed Through A Tube 7″ (Total Punk)
Total Punk doesn’t often look outside the United States, and while I appreciate their national pride, I can certainly see why they’d look to the great continent of Australia for more punk music to release, like Ausmuteants for example. “Fed Through A Tube” is another notable song title for these gents, and it might be the rippingest thing I’ve heard from them yet, toning down the high-pitched feedback of their earliest material and synthy grooves of their most recent for a lovely cut of garage-indebted punk rock. “Arguments” on the flip is similarly blazing, with its synth-rendered bleep-bloops cutting through like some lost Dow Jones & The Industrials track. At the very least, Ausmuteants have certainly captured the essence of four unpopular kids making a big racket in their basement solely for their own amusement, a time-honored suburban punk tradition. Is it weird that I’m starting to want to keep the Total Punk singles I’m not even totally into, just based on the strength of the hits (like this one) and the need to have a complete set? This is the same symptomatology behind the ’80s baseball card collecting craze, right?
Boston Strangler Fire LP (Fun With Smack)
Everyone’s favorite serial killer-named hardcore band is back with their sophomore album. I have to admit, for how exacting these guys are in their replication of classic Boston hardcore, part of me was really hoping they were going to finally go for it and put together a How We Rock-worthy album of godawful cock rock. I mean, the cover art is a painting of flames, this could be it, right? But nope – these guys remain unwilling to budge from the comfort of 1982. The drums might be my favorite aspect of this group, as they are so intensely heavy yet also punchy and sharp. While the riffs are standard X-Claim!-grade hardcore, those drums make it sound far more massive than any of their contemporaries (or heck, many of the OGs). I’m not picking out as many distinct smash hits on here as the debut (“Joke’s On You” is catchy enough that it seems like it was already written by someone else, though), and the vocals reach a Damian Abraham level of “Dicky Barrett doing the voice of a cartoon bear” at times, but that’s all part of the fun. And while they may never have the guts to commit their talent to a horribly misguided glam-rock album, I appreciate that one of them re-drew the rain drops from the cover of DYS’s Brotherhood for their insert, just because.
Broken Arm Life Is Short LP (Gringo / Art Blind)
Life Is Short feels like an unfinished statement – should I play hard? Or perhaps even pray hard? Regardless of their direction, Broken Arm are a hard-hitting rock band that you can take seriously. They’re based out of Leeds, although their blustery riffs had me thinking of Chicago or Seattle instead (I’m thinking of any band on Touch & Go who also participated in the Sub Pop Singles Club). They clearly aren’t old dudes (or at least the singer sounds like he was born in the ’80s), but the music seems to come from a place of the hard rock that inhabited the underground punk scene in the mid to late ’90s – I’m thinking of Rye Coalition and Mudhoney, with touches of Polvo and Drive Like Jehu. It’s very simple, workmanlike music, the sort of sound and general song-construction that either comes together in under five minutes or doesn’t come together at all. Not a whole lot sticks out to me about Broken Arm (this has gotta be at least the tenth album with a messy apartment floor photo on the cover that I’ve reviewed), and I would not particularly recommend them to anyone, but on the same token I refuse to impede their path. You may proceed, Broken Arm.
Bruce Just Getting Started / Tilikum 12″ (Dnuos Ytivil)
They’re not booing, they’re yelling “Bruce!” He’s the newest semi-anonymous first-name-only young British producer of post-post-dubstep, and this single for the Dnuos Ytivil label (read it backwards and unlock the secret!) is pretty tight. Both “Just Getting Started” and “Tilikum” work with punchy, sonorous beats that generally lock into place and are only mildly agitated throughout. Nothing too fancy, but all the necessary elements are firmly welded and ready to be taken on the road. “Just Getting Started” is faster and more physical, and “Tilikum” splits itself in half, shuttling in a bouncy synth beat after a couple mild minutes and riding that bronco out of town. Bruce employs the same tricks Powell and Objekt have trademarked over recent releases, wherein he interjects an obtrusive blast of noise or cuts the beat entirely for an incongruous sound-effect intermezzo, and just like Powell and Objekt, I enjoy when Bruce does it too (I could stand for a full track of the strange noises that bookend “Just Getting Started”).
Buck Biloxi And The Fucks Culture Demanufacturer LP (Total Punk)
For as great as Buck Biloxi’s debut LP was, I felt like the faithful Ramones parody cover was a bit of a misstep – where’s the bloodshot rage in a faithful recreation of a classic punk record cover? Mr. Biloxi fixes that issue with Culture Demanufacturer, whose cover image of a deflated football with a knife in it deserves iconic status, the sort of logo that kids should be getting tattooed next to their Black Flag bars and Germs circle. I’m holding Culture Demanufacturer close to my heart because of that, but musically, I’d say this one is a slight step down from the self-titled debut. The recording is noticeably thinner (and block-rocking bass was never Biloxi’s forte to begin with), and the song titles aren’t as funny – sure, “I Ain’t Going To Church” is anthemic, but track titles like “Butthole Bots” and “I Don’t Care” don’t zing like “They Should Have Killed You” and “I Look Like Crap”. I’m just splitting hairs here though, as this is still pure Buck Biloxi & The Fucks: the spirit of Loli & The Chones reincarnated into one perpetually angry little man. Now let’s make Buck proud as we rip the nets off basketball hoops and punt soccer balls into the river.
Coïtus Int. Coïtus Int. LP (Bunkerpop)
From the label that brought us a reissue of a Coïtus Int. 7″, here comes a reissue of their debut LP. I remember thinking the 7″ was cool if not entirely remarkable, another floater in a sea of rare obscure punk reissues, but this LP? This is my kinda record! I certainly don’t remember them sounding as hopelessly grim as they do here, which is great – it’s as if Coïtus Int. are the missing link between Flipper and Campingsex, another defiant post-punk frown that refuses to play at a tempo above “plodding”. I’m reminded of that Exiles In Clowntown LP at times too, which is a testament to the coolness of both bands, as Coïtus Int. sound surprisingly fresh some 33 years later. And while I like some extreme crap, this record is quite easy to get into, the sort of thing I don’t necessarily need to be in the right mood to hear – it’s a wonderfully miserable form of easy-listening. I’m not one to promote reissues (let’s pay attention to those here with us today, okay?), but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t add the original self-released version of this album to my want-list minutes upon first hearing it.
Crimson Wave Say / Calling You 7″ (Accidental Guest)
It’s not right that I can’t help but think about The Crimson Curse when I think about this band, but no one ever said being in a band was fair! Crimson Wave are another group popping out of Baltimore’s recent shoegaze-pop explosion (who woulda thunk it), and they sound pretty cool, opting for a jangly downer sound. “Say” talks about flower petals and love, but in a way that conjures dark autumn days, black candles and blacker coffee. Like Felt, but not quite as strident and soft (pun intended). “Calling You” is slower and more seductive, but in the 4AD sort of way, where that cute guy you liked ends up being some depressed artist who just wanted your cigarettes, not your heart. A pretty cool and simple single, just the right thing to put on if the seasonal depression hits and you want to revel in it for a few minutes.
Downbeat / F-on Downbeat Black Label 03 12″ (Downbeat Black Label)
In an effort to explore the furthest reaches of electronic dance music, I sometimes find myself staring at records like this, a 12″ featuring Downbeat and F-on (I never heard of them either). The record is practically daring me to try to figure it out – it has no sleeve (just a stamped center sticker), internet searching provides very little info, and the music is as beguiling and stone-faced as its presentation. I think I love it, though, and that’s because of the impenetrably slow music within. Downbeat’s “Moskitos En Siberia” feels inappropriate at 33 or 45, but I’ve confirmed it’s 33, which means that this is a slow-burning stick of incense indeed. I’m reminded of Nuel’s Trance Mutation in the way it lingers in the dark shadows of some sort of ancient ceremony, like if one of those “world music” CD samplers at Ten Thousand Villages was actually haunted. F-on offers “Smog” on their side, which is even further removed from dance music and closer to a field recording of a train chugging through some endlessly empty expanse, like West Texas if it were a giant swamp. Both tracks are super-slow, double-digit-BPM jams, and it feels like they’re on the cusp of some new genre entirely, if not just revamping Basic Channel’s dub techno for the Demdike Stare / Haxan Cloak set. I’ll keep an eye on these folks and let you know as things develop.
Fate Vs. Free Willy Every Human Was A Child 7″ (If Society)
I don’t understand why so many bands choose to remove vowels from or add consonants to their already-used band names, when they can just think up some crazy crap like Fate Vs. Free Willy and rest assured the name is theirs and theirs alone. Do you really need to be The Creatures that badly that you are willing to call yourself CRTURS or Thee Crrreatures instead? Anyway, band-naming isn’t the only thing Fate Vs. Free Willy get right: their music is a sweet form of blown-out, foolish art-garage, somewhere between the lighter side of FNU Ronnies, the squelch of Poppets or the deliberate annoyance of AIDS Wolf. Sounds like your head is inside the floor tom when they hit it (and they hit it often), and I was actually about to compare them to Soiled Mattress & The Springs, until I realized they actually just sound like Lamps or The Art Thieves performing on top of a soiled mattress (and what is that, some dying synth under it all?). Anyway, in a battle between Fate and Free Willy, it is you and I, the listeners, who come out on top.
Gary Wrong Group Floods Of Fire 12″ & 7″ (Jeth-Row / Bat Shit)
If loving this music is Gary Wrong, then I don’t wanna be right. This new 12″ (with “bonus” 7″ single) is a pretty lavish presentation for music so wretched, and I’m so glad a copy has found its way into my home. The a-side features an extended version of “Dream Smasher” (previously located on their split 7″ with Wizzard Sleeve), and it’s a treat no matter what format it comes in, that miserable riff tempered by a synth on the “intriguing chimes” setting. “Setting Fire To Your Loft” follows accordingly, sounding like a punk band raised on krautrock with one band member playing a kitchen garbage disposal run through a Space Echo. The b-side features an “FNU Clone Edit” of “Warlords Willing”, like a long pour of syrup into Chrome’s sonic black hole. The 7″ has two songs, “Miserable Life” and “Down On Me”, and although there are no credits I was able to recognize them from sound alone as Rusted Shut and Pink Reason covers, which speaks to my ailing social life. Definitely the type of record that is best purchased with funds obtained by stealing and selling your roommates video games or band equipment – Floods Of Fire is a safe space for bad karma.
Gazelle Twin Unflesh LP (Last Gang)
Gazelle Twin is a fascinating electronic artist, and I feel bad that only now have I caught on to her bizarre music and aesthetic. Musically, it floats somewhere within the industrial-electro / post-dubstep / synth-pop / trip-hop Venn diagram, slipping a Portion Control beat into Pearson Sound’s production values to create some blackened Björk remix. Sounds cool, right? But “Gazelle Twin” the person takes on this totally unique persona that mixes chav streetwear with Slipknot scare tactics (Google a photo!), resulting in the perfect gateway drug for a Marilyn Manson fan who is trying to get into Throbbing Gristle. The few intelligible lyrics seem to deal with dark familial issues, and the tracks that don’t have me dancing have me looking over my shoulder, almost positive I’m about to be kidnapped or hatcheted. All this and “Anti Body” is one of the sickest dance cuts I’ve heard this year… and the label is Canadian! You just can’t make this stuff up.
The Gotobeds Poor People Are Revolting LP (12XU)
The first thing you probably noticed about this record is that the title is Poor People Are Revolting, and that’s how The Gotobeds are playing it – shock value with a cynical wit, the sort of thing where you are either in on the joke along with them or they have no interest in your fandom anyway. They’re a pretty good group that follows in the “indie rock for people who are too cool for indie rock” lineage of Times New Viking, Protomartyr and Connections, pop bands who could play clubs that are 31+ instead of 21+ without leaving any of their fanbase outside, and this debut album is a solid, worthwhile effort. I like it best when they aren’t hiding themselves behind parody of classic punk (it says “Anarchy In The U.S.” on the cover and there’s a song called “New York’s Alright (If You Like Sex & Phones”), because I think these guys have interesting things to say when they aren’t draped in irony – “Wasted On Youth” (maybe that’s an old punk parody title too?) is a boppy cut with an appropriately-grumpy sentiment that I can get behind. The Gotobeds sounds isn’t usually what I am interested in hearing, but they wear it well enough that I’ve spun Poor People Are Revolting a bunch more than I expected, solely out of personal enjoyment. They may want to shock my stagnant yuppie self with curse words and crass statements, but The Gotobeds ended up moving me to listen to their record out of sheer sonic satisfaction. Joke’s on them!
Gunk Gradual Shove LP (Square Of Opposition / Ranch)
While the definition of indie-rock continues to shift toward “regular pop music”, it’s nice to know the spirit of its forebears remains alive and well in pockets all over the world, performed by artists who don’t care if you know about them or not. Take Gunk for example, who I initially hoped were an Anasazi tribute band (too soon?), but are actually a pleasant indie-rock trio that paint with a wide palate of color. I’m reminded of anything from early Sebadoh and Meat Puppets to scrappy K Records punk rock and the bedroom-pop explosion of the ’00s in Gradual Shove, and it all works for them. They’re the type of band that writes a Beach Boys melody and sings “I want to kill them all” sweetly over top, or overloads a wistful pop-punk bass-line with various movie samples, just because they wanna. Gunk aren’t the only player in this game, but Gradual Shove comes out ahead of the pack, if mostly because they pack it with focused hits – they didn’t just cobble together a mess of random recordings, as is often the wont of similarly smudgy indie-rock groups. Smash your head on the Gunk rock, why don’t you?
Hand Of Dust Walk In White 7″ (Avant!)
Avant! has been keeping the 7″ format dark, brooding and mysterious lately, and this Hand Of Dust single is a particularly enjoyable entry into their catalog. Hand Of Dust seemingly desire to play chiming neo-folk ala Cult Of Youth or Lakes (or their obvious influences), but they side-step any costumey, too-serious silliness with two straight-forward burners. “Walk In White” is a chiming electrified guitar and one mighty snare roll, with a man of indistinct cultural origin ranting about white clothes for a good four minutes or so. “A Sight For The Living” is even mightier, slowing the snare roll and adding some potent cymbal crashes. It’s almost dead-on with how Iceage currently sound (which I will get to shortly), but clearly Hand Of Dust reached similar musical conclusions on their own, soaking up Gun Club and Flesh Eaters records and leaving the pulp behind. Wasn’t expecting Hand Of Dust to be so killer, but then again bands like this usually sneak up on me unannounced.
Helena Hauff & Andreas Gehm Helena Hauff Meets Andreas Gehm split 12″ (Solar One Music)
Finally had a chance to check out Helena Hauff after seeing her name associated with all sorts of cool techno I dig, and this split 12″ has served me well. Her music is about as bad-ass as traditional acid-techno can get – unrelenting arpeggios, claps and snares liable to leave papercuts, and of course that fat worm of acid violently wriggling about. Both of Hauff’s cuts here seem to be the work of no more than two pieces of hardware, and it allows her cunning hand to shine through, casually manipulating her sounds like an alligator wrangler with a big scar on his face. Andreas Gehm, whom I am only listening to because of Helena Hauff, is pretty dope too, and a fitting sparring partner. Very similar style (one could easily believe all four tracks were the work of the same artist), but Gehm’s tracks seem built for larger rooms, as they huff and puff a little harder (and of course emit plenty of acid squelch). Yellow vinyl, which seems fitting – this acid is severe enough to render any slab of vinyl such a sickly shade.
Iceage Plowing Into The Field Of Love 2xLP (Matador)
Ever since first hearing New Brigade, I knew Iceage were something truly special, but who knew it’d be something that lasted and grew? I would’ve been content with them breaking up while they were still teenagers, just offering one scorching album and burning themselves up in the process, but here we are years later, with Plowing Into The Field Of Love opening up new avenues of enjoyment. “Maturity” might as well be a four-letter word in the realm of hardcore/punk, but Iceage have gained it with such carefree confidence that I wouldn’t have written their story any other way if I were granted full creative control. You’ve all probably heard the record by now, but let me reiterate that the way they incorporate brass and strings here is as natural as feedback from a guitar – once I heard this album, I couldn’t picture them doing anything else. The lyrics are as angrily depressed as ever, but conveyed with a clunky beauty, striving for deeper meaning than the vague rune-worship of early Iceage tracks and succeeding. And this is all with a couple cow-punk songs, plenty of Flesh Eaters and Sort Sol worship, and the vocal evolution of Elias Bender Rønnenfelt into Tim Armstrong. I hate to think that personal taste in music can signify one’s level of intelligence, but if you don’t enjoy at least some aspect of Plowing Into The Field Of Love you might be an idiot.
Impalers Psychedelic Snutskallar 12″ (540)
Impalers’ debut LP is a hardcore ripper of the finest order, but I have to come clean – I haven’t been spinning it all that much, mostly because quality hardcore in 2014 is as prevalent in the first world as running water, and I guess I’ve just been busy or something. I’ll tell you a record I won’t forget to spin early and often, though, and that’s their Psychedelic Snutskallar 12″ EP! Finally, an American group takes the concept of the d-beat and explodes it into something of Keiji Haino, Lou Reed or Ricardo Villalobos proportions, taking the basic concept and blasting it with nuclear ions until a Stargate opens up. The title track encompasses the entire a-side, and it’s just so relentlessly righteous that it makes other bands attempting hardcore almost seem foolish in their pursuits. There are four other killer cuts on the b-side (Dave Grohl might stop chewing gum for a second if he heard the lead riff in “Mower”), but really the spotlight falls on “Psychedelic Snutskallar” as the most conceptually powerful hardcore song of 2014 (not that there were many other contenders, since Hoax’s “Los Angeles” came out last year). 540 Records pressed 1,000 copies of this record (which is equivalent to 500,000 copies by 1992 standards) and their confidence in this record is completely justified.
Samuel Kerridge Deficit Of Wonder 12″ (Blueprint)
Thank goodness for Samuel Kerridge, an industrial techno protégé who goes by his own name (not “Tina” or “Jennifer”) and jams more firepower into his slow-grinding music than any Electro Come-Lately out there. I still blast his debut album into my own face on the regular, so this new EP was a welcome addition. “Operation Neptune” opens it us with life-threatening electrical damage and a slowly descending howl into the abyss, which leads into “Surrender To The Void”, a nasty slice of techno that bridges the gap between Skinny Puppy and Regis (a gap that will probably no longer exist by 2015). The b-side opens with an homage to his favorite Philadelphian hardcore group, “Paint It Black”, and for as throbbing and painful as the a-side was, this one really puts on the pressure, with loud structural swaying that recalls a four-lane bridge collapsing mid-rush hour. “Paint It Black Reprise” wraps it up without the beat, just the wild, hysterical clanging, like Godzilla after receiving a few well-placed missiles. A solid EP for sure, not only for the Transformers-level of metropolitan damage but because Kerridge retains his unique voice in an overpopulated genre. I assume they pressed this one on white vinyl because the sonic purity of black virgin wax would be too dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.
Musk Musk LP (Holy Mountain)
Gotta give it up for a label like Holy Mountain, year-in and year-out delivering strange and cool rock records with little regard for weekly trends or marketability. Holy Mountain’s bands tend to swing closer to the meditative, transcendental zone of rock music, third eye wide open, so it was surprising to hear the swampy garage-rock of Musk, a band whose buzzing punk seems ripe for an In The Red contract. Anyway, Musk is an appropriate name for this group, as they take Link Wray’s signature guitar sound and desecrate it, not unlike throwing all of the Cramps’ influences into the mouth of that giant GWAR sex-worm. I’m frequently reminded of Lamps as well, thanks to their economy of songwriting, howled vocals and cantankerous demeanor, but Musk aren’t afraid to get down n’ dirty (Lamps would just stare at the mess with disapproving eyes). Throw Musk alongside that Pampers LP, close your eyes and click your heels, and watch as your quinoa salad and coconut water mysteriously turn into a 7-Eleven hot dog and a Budweiser.
New Cowboy Builders Black Moses / What Is Expected 7″ (Function Room)
Here’s some sturdy American-sounding post-punk indie-rock from a British group called New Cowboy Builders. Their general presentation has left me with no obvious quips or sassy remarks, so let’s get right to the tunes, shall we? “Black Moses” has a nice little bounce to it, reminding me of a wide variety of groups (let’s say The Fall, Drive Like Jehu, Blur, Dichroics) while not sounding particularly like any of them. “What Is Expected” feels like Shellac imitating The Native Cats, although the vocalist is doing his best Pheromoans-styled yawn. Pretty decent, but New Cowboy Builders play the sort of big-sounding, rock-based indie-rock that I never spent much time listening to, so while they might actually sound identical to Teenage Fanclub or Urge Overkill, I’m not the guy that’s gonna tell ya. I just checked and saw that these songs have five plays a piece on their Last.fm page – why not do these gents a favor and bump it up to six?
No Faith Dead Weight 7″ (Clean Plate / Vendetta)
Austin and the greater Boston area seem to be in a hardcore arms race, each locale seemingly bursting with dozens of new good-to-great hardcore bands every month. Take No Faith, for example, another Boston hardcore group with a healthy hardcore pedigree (Think I Care, Orchid, Vaccine and surely dozens more) who deliver the goods on this 7″. They play a fairly traditional form of power-violence with noise interludes, which calls to mind Suppression in their heyday (I’m thinking of the Cripple Bastards split LP), with some ripping Crossed Out-style fast/slow progressions. Not too far off from Iron Lung either, although No Faith push their levels further in the red and are less technically inclined (which is by no means a detriment). It might be the heavy recording, or their grind-core expertise, but whatever the reason, No Faith are thrillingly brutal without adding anything new to the equation. In the time it took to type this, two d-beat groups just formed in Austin for the inevitable city vs. city showdown.
Officer! Dead Unique 2xLP (Blackest Ever Black)
You can accuse Blackest Ever Black of being too black, but don’t accuse them of being easily pigeonholed – what started as a single-minded industrial techno label has turned over all sorts of strange corners in the world of underground music. Take this Officer! double-album for example. It’s a project featuring some Half Japanese personnel (relocated to England, albeit briefly), with a wide cast of characters and associates (even Leprechaun Catering’s Jason Willett is credited for various contributions). It’s certainly pretty wacked… at one turn I’m picturing Henry Cow shaking hands with Swell Maps, then it swings into something Volcano The Bear would’ve artfully rendered, then the DIY menace of a Fuck Off Records tape compilation takes hold and I’ve completely lost track of time. And yet, there is an obvious sense of strict and intentional composition here, which makes it even more dazzling to think that this giant group of players all put in the hours necessary to create such a tight and focused recording. To make it even more bizarre, this recording is previously unreleased from a 1995 session, a time when music as wild and unencumbered by genre restraints as this was at an all-time low. A truly beautiful form of crazy.
Pharmakon Bestial Burden LP (Sacred Bones)
Often, the concept behind noise music is about as important to its overall impact as its actual sonic properties, which is perhaps why Pharmakon and Prurient are America’s most celebrated noise artists at the moment. They know how to conceptualize! Pharmakon’s sophomore album focuses on the failings of the human body, almost considering it as a conspiring adversary rather than the vessel that contains oneself, and it’s worthy of however many NPR and Stereogum articles it receives. There’s not a whole lot of sonic progression from Abandon, but that’s alright with me – looped feedback, low-octave synth tones, one deadened floor-tom, black metal screams from the abyss, what else do you need? Staying true to the concept, there’s plenty of wheezing, retching and gagging on here too, adding a Schimpfluch-esque layer of madness to Pharmakon’s power-electronics death-dirge template. It’s varied without becoming a hodgepodge, modern yet timeless and generally just heavy as hell, and I’m so glad Pharmakon has picked up the pace after years of releasing very little. Both sonically and visually, Pharmakon is more arresting than a thousand anonymous noise guys using BDSM stock photos for their art, and I can only hope some of them take the hint that thoughtfulness and creativity are more important to noise’s health than genre conformity.
Rakta Tudo Que É Sólido / Serpente 7″ (Nada Nada Discos / 540 / La Vida En Es Mus / Dama Da Noite)
The opening comments made by Rakta’s guitarist Laura Del Vecchio at their show I caught earlier this year were some of the most inspiring pre-performance banter I’ve heard in forever, the sort of thing that any lazy American punk would benefit from hearing before they roll their eyes at paying a house-show cover. Rakta really embody the borderless freedom that punk’s more righteous philosophy entails, making them a hard band to dislike, unless you’re the CEO of Warped Tour and Monster Energy Drinks or something. Musically speaking, I thought their debut 12″ EP was okay, and while I was eager to hear more, this new lavishly-packaged 7″ does little to sway my thoughts on their actual songs, which is perhaps the least interesting aspect of the Rakta equation for someone like me. “Tudo Que É Sólido” is a repeating back-and-forth progression with more than enough reverb to go around, from the vocals to the guitar to the keyboard, and it slowly builds in intensity before wrapping up. On the flip, “Serpente” melds some sort of foreboding field recordings / loops with a languid beat, revealing a slightly more sophisticated approach to their dark and basic post-punk sound. It’s good, but that said, I can’t shake the thought that if this was some Brooklyn band on Sacred Bones or Dais, I’d probably quietly rank them in the lesser-half of those labels before forgetting about them altogether. With Rakta, it’s hard to separate their music from their impassioned attitude and strong identity, but if you manage to focus solely on their music, it might be a little disappointing.
Tin Man Ode 2xLP (Absurd Recordings / Acid Test)
Tin Man keeps up his busy work schedule with yet another full-length album, all with his signature Grayest Ever Gray art design. It can be hard to keep up (I’m a big enough fan that I released one of his albums myself, yet I am far from owning a complete collection), and while I’d love to sell my car and complete my Tin Man discography, records like Ode are cool but ultimately unessential to my life. I love when he takes a specific concept, be it the neon-smog wasteland of Los Angeles, the snow-covered cobblestones of Vienna or acid-house with a neutralized pH balance, but Ode kinda just seems like more of the same, following his frequent Acid Test singles. This album is full of Tin Man’s sad-bastard acid, and if you haven’t heard it before it’s a pretty sharp trick, calming acid’s frenzied arpeggios into chilly, contemplative grooves… I’ve just already got a big stack of his wax that does this very same thing. I’m also a huge fan of his HAL 9000 vocal incantations, but Ode is instrumental-only on vinyl, the CD version coming with four vocal versions in addition to the instrumentals (and much to my disappointment, the vocals are lower in the mix than ever and clearly an afterthought, whereas they absolutely stunned on Wasteland and Cool Wave). By all means, if you haven’t checked out Tin Man yet, Ode is a fine example of his current product; I’m just at a point where I want him to take my breath away all over again.
Torn Hawk Let’s Cry And Do Pushups At The Same Time LP (Mexican Summer)
Now there’s a title! I’ve been waiting for the first “proper” full length of Luke Wyatt’s Torn Hawk project, an entity I fell in love with a few months ago care of the Bad Deadlift EP on L.I.E.S. and have been moderately stalking ever since. Kinda weird he’s on Mexican Summer now, but I guess nothing is really weird anymore, and so long as I get to look at him making a serious face while wearing a black bed-sheet on the cover, I don’t really care. I’ve spun this one a few times now, and while the surprise of his unique style has since worn off, this is an easy record to like. Wyatt seems to have shifted his focus from the dance-floor, imagined or otherwise, veering closer to “closing credits”-style soundtrack work, with chiming guitars riding front and center over nostalgic drum machines and low-res synths. I can’t help but think that if Blues Control developed a sick fascination with Coldplay, they’d sound a hell of a lot like this. Even with the move toward sedentary music and a lack of jaw-dropping surprises (or pop hits), Torn Hawk’s exercise regimen is guaranteed to improve your quality of life if you can commit yourself to it. Results guaranteed.
The Ukiah Drag In The Reaper’s Quarters LP (Wharf Cat)
The Ukiah Drag’s debut 12″ EP was an exceptional slice of feverish swamp-rock, so I was getting pretty pumped to check out In The Reaper’s Quarters, their debut full-length. Somehow, the feeling of being surrounded by crocodiles in the dark with only a rusty chain and a candle to ward them off is lost here, or at least wiped clean enough that the threat is no longer imminent. It’s like The Ukiah Drag turned the lights on, and now the mystery of their dark corners just reveals boxes of old clothes and dry-goods storage. I swear the vocalist had a disgusting wheeze the first time around, but now he sounds like any regular guy you’d pass on the street, and the songs feel more like regular-rock with a slight post-punk-abilly tinge. I don’t want to say the magic is gone, but it’s severely hindered by their tightened-up, standard approach, even if the songs are still quite lugubrious. Pretty sure they open the first song with the same extended chord that the last one ends on, and I dunno, I plan on coming back to this one in a couple months to see if it just needed a little more time to click, but there’s a good chance I’ll forget.
Ulsers Remember Them 7″ (Wallaby Beat)
Of course I remember Ulsers, I reviewed their LP last month! Anyway, this is a faithful reissue of their 1980 7″, also lovingly reproduced by diligent oddball-Aussie archivists Wallaby Beat. Four tracks here, falling in line with Television Personalities and Alternative TV more strictly than their LP, which flopped all over the place. Nice mix of calm and chaotic here, going from a dull strummer to some Godz-style hullabaloo in quick time. I never had the experience of being a teenager in 1976, sitting around hating Peter Frampton, Pink Floyd and disco and being unable to escape any of it, but the sonic violence that Ulsers bring about, not to mention their humble means, speaks loud and clear to the rebellious nature that dwells inside all of us. Not sure I’ll be going out of my way to track down an original, but I’m glad Ulsers fired off this little spitball along with their more nuanced retrospective LP.
Beau Wanzer Untitled LP (no label)
Beau Wanzer’s “Balls Of Steel” was a true reckoning in the world of bizarre drum-machine music, and I’ve been following him closely ever since, a man seemingly tied to the underground techno scene but uninterested in participating in its methodologies and rules. Now he went and dropped his first album, a collection of songs spanning a decade, and it’s a doozy! Twelve tracks here, often with little more than a solitary drum machine slithering around the room, brushing up against your legs and generally creeping everyone out. On the modern-industrial tip, I’m reminded of Mammal and M Ax Noi Mach at their most seductive, and on the techno tip, I’m reminded of Omar S and Hieroglyphic Being’s more minimal, DJ-tool productions, but Wanzer has located his own distinct voice through it all. I also mean that literally, as he vocalizes over many of these tracks, his words blurred by layers of distortion, sometimes recalling a battery-drained Teddy Ruxpin. I suppose there are tracks you can dance to here too, but I’m more inclined to slowly slide into a couch, eyes closed, and envision myself in Wanzer’s mysterious hotel closet. There’s room for two, you know.
Whatever Brains W/E Brains 2×12″ (Sorry State)
Here’s a group who really loves their name, as after three self-titled albums, they’ve delivered a txt-speak version of their moniker on this double 12″ EP. It makes it hard to recommend specific records to a friend, in case anyone was gonna do that, but at least now I can say “the double twelve-inch is the one you gotta check out” because, well, it is! They really stretch their legs on this record, delving into long-form, electronically-bent versions of the standard Whatever Brains approach (spindly art-punk guitars with nasally vocals and a keen sense of detachment). One 12″ features two sides of the same dragged-out track, and the other has four roomy new cuts. “Conficker” sounds like an Aphex Twin song title, and Whatever Brains work with a similarly foreboding sense of electronic lurch, albeit with the perspective of a band that has surely played to hundreds of disinterested basement audiences through their career. I’m reminded of mid-’00s synth-punkers like Factums and The Pink Noise throughout this set, but Whatever Brains are writing actual songs within that framework, not just firing off pre-sets for two-and-a-half minutes and hoping for the best. Bizarre and highly enjoyable music, surely to be lost on the meat-and-potatoes end of the Sorry State audience, but isn’t that always how it goes?
Youth Code A Place To Stand 12″ (Dais)
As unfairly skeptical I am of Youth Code, they keep putting out records that are sonically pretty great, like this one. At least they went with “Youth Code” and not “Code Of Youth”, I need to remind myself. Anyway, there are four new tracks on the a-side, all very historically accurate to the Wax Trax / Nettwerk style of aggressive EDM, and they’re quite nice. Youth Code subtly remove the more dated aspects of the original equation (paper-thin treble, funk bass, amen breaks) and go straight for the good stuff, crafting every other aspect of their existence from the past and doing it well (the righteous spoken-word track was a nice touch). The b-side comes with a variety of remixes, and you might be sensing shades of GSL’s remix series here, going from slow n’ heavy grease (Sanford Parker Smoke and Dark Heart) to Death Grips-style rap (Clipping.), boppy Belgian new-beat (God Module Pandemic) and an institution of modern-day industrial techno (Silent Servant). I still feel a little strange about Youth Code’s precise re-enactment and ex-hardcore background, but at this point I think I just need to get over it. They’re good!
Bad Daddies Negative Fun Singles Club 2014 7″ (Negative Fun)
Singles clubs are almost always a better idea in theory than practice – for as tantalizing it is to get that one beloved band’s exclusive 7″, you’ve gotta wade through a bunch of other records you never wanted, and that’s operating under the assumption they all eventually arrive. Negative Fun is undergoing such a task, for whom I do not know, but recruiting Bad Daddies is never a bad idea, no matter what the task at hand. “This Ain’t Right” shows a clear progression of chops from their earliest 7″, directly ripping Germs’ “We Must Bleed” with three other words in its place. Three more pissed-off, feedback-squelching tunes are on the b-side, replete with gloriously awful guitar work on “Teenage Hell”, some between-song nonsense and a channeled mix of Necros and The Reatards with more brattiness than a busload of spoiled children. Not sure if you have to sign up for the club to get this one, but it’s a solid winner!
Black Rain Dark Pool LP (Blackest Ever Black)
More dark electronics from the Blackety Blax camp! You know, it must be peculiar to find out that a genre you kind of created and helped establish to little fanfare ended up becoming really popular some fifteen-plus years later. Might as well give it another go around at that point, which is what Stuart Argabright is doing with Dark Pool, his first proper album under the Black Rain alias in nearly twenty years. It opens and closes with the spoken word of Keluar’s Alison Lewis, connecting Black Rain to a younger generation of synth-pop provocateurs while still remaining firmly in a world predating The Matrix (but nevertheless thick with the frightening promise of the Internet and mass brain control). Dark Pool focuses on mood over movement, with thick, spacious tracks that pulsate and flicker with a pessimistic sci-fi worldview. It’s much like Vatican Shadow, only with decades of prior experience handling synthesizers and spared of the conceptualized military manifesto, and I can only hope the Black Rain continues to pour.
Brain Tumors / Pisswalker split 7″ (Lagerville)
In a world of bands undeservedly releasing 7″ EPs, here’s a split that seems almost unfair in its brevity. Sure, I was expecting some decent generic hardcore from a band called Brain Tumors, but they are just so delightfully frantic, but also melodic, but also totally garbled noise – it’s like United Mutation jamming some of the more intricate Neos songs, with one guy who kinda wishes he was in a pop-punk band, and the guy from Bone Awl (He Who Sniffs Tombstone Dust or whatever) recording the whole thing. Okay, maybe it’s not quite that good, but still Brain Tumors come across like the unstable cousin of Ivy, and that’s more than enough for me. Pisswalker are cool too, but the less notable band – they play a simplistic form of anthemic one-two one-two hardcore-punk, the sort of style destined for a white-ink-on-black-canvas patch on someone’s buttflap, where a street-punk chorus can be paired with a blast-beat intro and it makes perfectly crusty sense. Not far from Vaaska or five minutes spent with any Short, Fast & Loud!-sponsored compilation. Now where can I get some more Brain Tumors, besides the consumption of lead paint?
Bremen Second Launch 2xLP (Blackest Ever Black)
Brainbombs have an interesting history of side-projects, from the instrumental Stooges-pounding of No Balls to the straight-forward minimal-techno of Dryer and a variety in between (and we can’t forget Totalitär either). The most recent to pop up is Bremen, the work of two Brainbombs members. Whereas Brainbombs make you squirm in your seat due to their utterly vile and horrifying lyrical subject matter, Bremen cause discomfort in a different way: through the seemingly endless monotony of their space-rock drone. At times I’m reminded of Darkside if they misplaced all their studio tricks, just the musicianship of Moon Duo, but after one and a half sides, Second Launch drifts so deep into space it’s almost as if nothing is happening at all, like a soundcheck for one of Harmonia’s underwhelming reunion gigs. I honestly didn’t think I could make it all the way through in one shot – Second Launch is so boring that I nearly tapped out multiple times through, but by the time I was flipping the second record onto its second side, I had psyched myself up for the challenge, thinking “this is what it must be like to race in the Tour de France”. In the end, I didn’t mind it actually, and I appreciate Bremen’s intense focus for no good reason, but it’s gonna be a while before I gear up for launch once more.
Julian Casablancas & The Voidz Tyranny CD (Cult)
Yep, I still love this guy, even as he slowly becomes a rock-critic punchline (unfairly, may I add), just because he’s not following the narrative that fans and writers predetermined for him. I am still finding fantastic new tricks and twists in his debut solo album, Phrazes For The Young, and this new one with “The Voidz” is completely crazy, for better or worse. Just the amount of time that must’ve went into such a giant sprawling mess is staggering to think about – it’s an hour long and jam-packed with musical ideas, from LCD Soundsystem-esque struts to Queen songs ran through multiple Rat pedals, cut-up noise and epic guitar wailing. Casablancas pushes his voice through half a dozen octaves – he’s truly one of his generation’s male vocal talents, that is when he decides to pull the vocals out in the mix far enough that you can actually hear them. That’s the one fault I find here: his vocals are so frequently buried that I never have any idea what he’s saying, and his lyrics almost always add another level of enjoyment to his tunes. It’s such a scatterbrained, chaotic album that I am impressed not only by its glaring snub of the mainstream but also the Axl Rose-sized brain/ego that must have put it together (and the allegation that The Voidz are a bunch of young-and-washed-up studio musician hipsters only adds to my enjoyment). Some of the most overwrought, out-of-time creativity is happening right under our noses and shame on you if you’re too cool for it!
Contact First Contact 12″ (Temporary Residence)
Contact is the project of A.E. Paterra (of Zombi fame) and acclaimed British film composer Paul Lawler (which is explained on the shrinkwrap sticker – as if I don’t already know my acclaimed British film composers, sheesh!). Actually, I don’t, and for all I know this could be some fraudulent promotional campaign with Temporary Residence calling our bluffs, fully aware that no one actually fact-checks anything these days. Either way, I refuse to investigate the depth of Lawler’s accolades, and am content believing what Temporary Residence told me as I spin these four epic instrumental-prog jams. I can’t help but be reminded of the 3-2-1 Contact intro when listening to this EP, as Contact seem to explore the wonders of the natural and artificial sciences through their music as well, just without the slightest hint of disco. Strong Pink Floyd and Styx vibes here, just itching for a remake of Knight Rider or any of Jean-Claude Van Damme’s late ’80s filmography (sadly I don’t think Time Cop makes the cut). Contact clearly missed the boat on soundtracking Halt And Catch Fire, that would’ve just been perfect, but it’s still the perfect musical accompaniment for anyone home-assembling their own Dell desktop well past midnight.
Eric Copeland Logo My Ego 12″ (L.I.E.S.)
Black Dice were the first band I remember being afraid of seeing, so they hold a special place in my heart, as does their lead vocalist and consistent producer of strange electronic music, Eric Copeland. Been a while since I checked in with him, and the great mutated Casper artwork lured me in (it’s not often L.I.E.S. does cover art for a 12″, so this had to be something special, right?). For as strange a guy as Copeland is, it’s interesting that the music of Logo My Ego is basically what I expected – wonky, lop-sided loops of samples, like a melted cartoon disco you’d find in one of Brian Chippendale’s comics. Dancing is possible, but I can’t picture the masses being moved by “Uncle Sams Blues”, just a select cadre of the weirdos responsible for the first wave of gentrification in their city. It’s too crazy to really focus on, as Copeland is not afraid to layer half a dozen loops like some sort of methamphetamine lasagna, and while it is certainly an entertaining feat of DIY maximalism, I feel like I’m probably good for another year or two before checking in with him again.
Daughters Of The Sun Ride To Die LP (Not Not Fun)
Just like Daughters, Daughters Of The Sun are actually a bunch of dudes, and unlike Daughters, these dudes are into extended improv-y rock grooves, somewhere between psychedelic and coked-up. I’m listening to it right now, which I’ve found is a necessity if I want to write about it – this is like the fifth time I’ve spun Ride To Die, and something about its modest, continual cloud of hazy grooves disperses from my consciousness as quickly as it entered. It’s one of those records that I didn’t notice stopped playing until I looked over and saw the needle in the run-out groove, you know? Anyway, I am paying close attention now, and I’m envisioning Naked On The Vague and Wet Hair doing a collaborative LP instead of a split one, covering their favorite Soft Machine songs from memory. It’s like chill-wave without the wave, Or synth-wave without the synth. You might like it, just don’t be fooled by the bad-ass album title and track names like “Werewolves On Wheels” – this sounds nothing like DMX or Judas Priest.
Dopplereffekt / Objekt Hypnagogia 12″ (Leisure System)
Here’s a quick and cool pairing of two of the finest electronic artists to ever end their names with “ekt”, Dopplereffekt and Objekt. Dopplereffekt represent the old guard here, a frequently name-checked influence for current producers of interesting techno, and it’s always nice to hear from them. This track stays true to their Drexciyan roots, rapidly scanning through synthetic tubes like that Windows “3D Pipes” screensaver. I’m still reeling from Objekt’s massive #3 EP from last year (and eager for his upcoming PAN album), and this track is another solid representation of his strengths – precise and well-oiled post-techno, like T++ after a professional sharpening of his blades. There’s a distinct form of violence to Objekt’s snare texture, and he’s not hiding it here. A very cool record, even if it’s “more of the same” to those with plenty of Dopplereffekt and Objekt records in their bins. Perhaps not a mandatory purchase, but who could ever find disappointment in a 12″ like this? Not I!
Ekman Entropy 12″ (The Trilogy Tapes)
Dutch producer Ekman has kept a busy schedule lately, this being his fourth EP this year following an even busier 2013. His brand of acid-techno seems like the kind of music made by someone who doesn’t have a lot of friends, so it makes sense – what else is he gonna do with his time? This new EP is a little less acid-fried, but the sounds are still distinctly Ekman – I can’t help but him seated in front of some giant plastic console with two large buttons, one for kicks and one for claps, Ekman wildly mashing them in various sequences as he chain-smokes. The title tracks is the standout, though – in a particularly gutsy move, Ekman forces two out-of-time patterns to interact, slowly coming in and out of focus (and also sounding like someone’s first failed attempt at making a salient beat in the process). Anyone who says they dance to “Entropy” is lying, and it disgusted me at first, but I’ve already moved past that disgust to some strange sense of pleasure I don’t feel comfortable discussing. Ekman’ll do that to you.
Exiles From Clowntown Tape Scissors Rock LP (Soft Abuse)
For as much as I’ve enjoyed Exiles From Clowntown thus far, I kinda never expected to see an album out of them – they just seem like the sort of slothful and ridiculous band destined for a small handful of singles before calling it a day (and maybe a Live At WFMU tape as their final offering; they’re one of those kinda bands). I’m more pleased than surprised to see that they’ve made it here though, as I can never have too much Exiles From Clowntown (well, let’s not test that), and they come barreling out of the gate with “Space Today”, a song that requires actual physical exertion to perform. They keep things varied throughout, opting for slow-motion drifters that recall The Dead C on a smoke break, surfy instrumentals and discordant rockers reminiscent of Sonic Youth at their infancy. If anything, Tape Scissors Rock shows signs of maturity without losing the spark of indifference that make their initial singles so captivating. (“Whistling Assassin”, originally off a 2010 single, closes the album and feels perfectly in place.) Really nice record, and if Clowntown don’t like it, they can shove off.
Gazar Strips Sparkling 12″ (Sonic Masala)
Sparkling is not only my favorite form of water, it’s the vinyl debut of London’s Gazar Strips. They play a fairly trad-modern form of indie goth-rock, clearly as much fans of Bauhaus as Interpol, and they interpret those influences in fairly standard ways. The vampire teeth start to grow during “Sparkling”, perhaps the most operatic track here, but generally this is a pretty by-the-books goth-rock experience, for better or worse. The bass is so intensely flanged and frequently center-staged that it practically turns my t-shirt into a black mohair sweater upon contact, and the rest of Gazar Strips seem truly dedicated to their sad and wandering sound, pop-acceptance be damned. Maybe a little more Buffy The Vampire Slayer than Nosferatu, but both are classics at this point anyway.
Gel Set / Stacian Voorhees 12″ (Moniker)
Double shot of Midwestern solo bedroom vocal-electro care of the busy Moniker label. This is my first experience with Gel Set (and perhaps her first vinyl release), and it’s alright. She plays a very basic form of pre-set synth-pop, with a fairly predictable layer of ethereal vocals drizzled on top. At times I’m reminded of Crack: We Are Rock, but there’s no menace or perversion to Gel Set, just a fairly basic set of ideas that could hide on a Faint b-side from 2002 and remain hidden for all eternity. Stacian has a few records out, and fares better for me here. “Ice Hole” opens like Kyle Hall’s earliest work, frantic and acidic, but the vocals maintain the formless vocal echo of Gel Set (and Tropic Of Cancer, and dozens of others). It sets the stage for eight-plus minutes of “Airlock”, which channels Devo and Thomas Dolby into a long-form groove without feeling like an imitation – Stacian seems to have gotten more comfortable with her gear and, well, better at programming it, and this track is the sort of thing that I’d find gratifying no matter if if I’m in a smoky after-hours club or hunched over my sink scrubbing the dishes. Plus, she speaks like a concerned professor over “Airlock”, a vocal approach I can fully get down with. Stacian and Gel Set are touring the Midwest this month, and if I can only hope that their beats are welcomed with open arms and shuffling feet.
Grizzlor When You Die 7″ (Money Fire)
A lot of modern noise-rock passes through Yellow Green Red’s halls, often with only a brief stay (let’s face it, if I kept every record that was reviewed here my condo would’ve caved in by now), but this Grizzlor… this is cool! Okay, maybe it’s not gonna blow your mind, especially if you’re a door-guy who still wears his Helmet backstage laminate from when you served them deli meats back in 1995, but actually, that’s probably the perfect mind for Grizzlor to blow. They’ve got a big, Karp-like recording, a drummer who probably listens to way more metal than hardcore, and a vocalist who provides Mike Doskocil-levels of sewage and refuses to cater to any sense of melody. I’m reminded of Pantera’s “Good Friends And A Bottle Of Pills”, not in lyrical content but musical mood, on more than one song here, and while it’s unlikely that Grizzlor have Static X hair and wear Kevin Smith-sized shorts, it’d almost be cooler if they did. Just own the style, you know?
Hoax Hunters Comfort & Safety LP (Negative Fun)
Okay, if TLC or Bravo hasn’t already pitched a show called “Hoax Hunters”, something is wrong with the world. Maybe the show exists and I’m just unaware, and this is a tribute band? Anyway, television aside, Hoax Hunters are also a hard-rocking band from Richmond, VA, moving somewhere in the tunnels that connect post-hardcore and grunge and melodic punk, the dark infrastructure that supports folks who wear Minutemen t-shirts to Milk Music gigs. Hoax Hunters are nothing to write home about, but they’re alright – one minute they’re jangling, the next they’re coming close to raging, and sometimes if the mood is just right, they’ll do both simultaneously. I’d need a more captivating singer or urgent songwriting to become hooked, but maybe one day they’ll finally find Hoax and turn into the most psychotic alt-grunge band to have ever existed.
Human Adult Band Trash Pickin’ 7″ (D.I.H.D.)
Trevor Pennsylvania of Human Adult Band had a solo project called Buckets & Batteries like ten years ago, and that band has the distinction of having released the first 7″ I ever saw where random trash was glued to the cover. I appreciated it back then, and it’s nice to see that his obsession with trash continues into Human Adult Band a decade later, a Jersey scum-rock group that moves at a slovenly pace, free from the constraints of popularity or success. This 7″ is certainly the best I’ve ever heard them: “Garbage & Th’ Trees” is the a-side, and it sounds like Tad covering “Black Hole Sun” as some sort of drunken joke, only it ends up sounding really heavy. “Night Terrors” is beautiful ’90s-style noise-rock, caught in the wake of grunge but lacking any of the funkiness or cheeseball production that makes many of those Dope-Guns-‘N-Fucking comps difficult to get through. I had to check just to be sure, and it appears that Ecstatic Peace has yet to release a Human Adult Band album… that just doesn’t seem like it can possibly be right.
Husere Grav / FRKSE split LP (Divergent Series)
Another strange transmission from the FRKSE / Divergent Series camp here, this one wafting in like grey steam from the cracks in a manhole cover. Husere Grav (pronounced similar to “Hoosier Daddy”, I’m guessing?) starts things off with three parts of “Amber Phantom”, a very cautious, slow-moving drone track that never gets more than a couple feet off the ground even at its highest speed. Not a whole lot to grab onto besides a sense of subtle intrigue. When the needle ran out, I was just like “oh”, and flipped it over to FKRSE, which thankfully opens with a distorted, mile-away scream, the perfect little palate cleanser for their creaky, loose-limbed industrial electronics. Now more than ever, I’m reminded of a rudimentary, hardware-based take on Andy Stott, opting for similarly corroded sounds but looping them in a fairly basic 4/4 setting. It gets pretty harsh, but never too heavy, as FRKSE’s modest fidelity can’t provide much subsonic boom, just a chunky crunch (imagine the Butterfinger factory malfunctioning). These tracks are broken up nicely though, with some strange managerial announcements throughout – another FKRSE success for sure. Not sure I needed to spend my time with Husere Grav, but what are you gonna do, tell these freaks how to behave?
Iron Lung Savagery 7″ (Iron Lung)
Nothing like a new Iron Lung record to provide a little reassurance that everything will be okay. They’re the last remaining link between the second-wave of power-violence and whatever fragmented scene exists today, and they are as solid and true-to-form as ever – this is grindcore you can set your watch to. Stops are as crucial to Iron Lung tunes as starts, and they continue to utilize them expertly here, ending dirges just as they get started and quickly whipping up an auto-fire grind assault only to have it cut away into silence. It’s those moments of disjointed change that are most arresting, and it’s a masterful move for any hardcore band to make their breaks sound as negative and miserable as their full-on thrash. Twelve songs, uniquely hand-stamped covers, how can you go wrong?
Jo Johnson Weaving LP (Further)
Been trying to convert your ex-hardcore friend to the soothing world of long-form electronic music without any luck? In that case, why not entice them with Jo Johnson’s Weaving album, starting with the tidbit that Jo Johnson was the guitarist for seminal UK punk group Huggy Bear, and now creates blissful vortexes of thoughtfully-considered ambient electronics? This is her debut solo release, and it’s quite beautiful and majestic, like viewing an iceberg via helicopter. Throughout, I’m reminded of the final Emeralds material with the compositional feel of Tangerine Dream or Manuel Göttsching guiding the ship. This isn’t a dance record, it’s the sort of thing you inhabit for twenty minutes or so, the perfect album for brainstorming new ideas or simply getting baked. As if another reason was needed to get on the Further train, Weaving is the sort of whirlpool in which drowning is a cause for celebration.
NeoTantrik Blue Amiga LP (Pre-Cert Home Entertainment)
The Demdike Stare camp seems to only take a break from making music to make music under different names, this one being NeoTantrik, featuring Sean Canty alongside Andy Votel, Suzanne Ciani, Bruno Spoerri, Jane Weaver and the mysterious N. Racker. Mercifully, I’m going to say that unless you are a diehard fan of these folks and doesn’t spend your money on anything else (your parents must still pay for your cell phone bill, even), this one can be skipped – surely there is a Testpressing or two that you still haven’t grabbed anyway. NeoTantrik is soft, floaty, background-music ambient, the sort of thing that is pleasantly ignored or enjoyed, depending on what you’re doing. I get that they were inspired by the barely-there Giallo soundtracks, although I’d say Eno’s footprints are just as visible. At worst, I’m reminded of the minutes of my life I’ve wasted listening to Dolphins Into The Future, and at best, there are some strange, unexpected moments on the b-side that recall Genesis P-Orridge’s early archival material on Dais, from the short bits of uninhibited piano and strings. Cool record, beautiful cover, but for those of us with bills to pay, a quick YouTube sampling and hi-res JPEG of the cover will do just fine.
Nerv USA Off Earth Now! 7″ (Lagerville)
The Toxic State aesthetic is irresistible (I’m talking wild and ragged hardcore-punk music housed in outrageous semi-ironic, entirely-gross cartoon artwork, all tied together with a nihilistic outlook), so it’s not surprising to see Lagerville put on their homemade studded leather-chaps for at least a couple records. Nerv are lacking an e but are clearly raging too hard to spell-check, stumbling through their songs as fast as the drummer can take them. I’m quickly reminded of Brown Sugar, Manic and maybe a little Joint D≠, if you’d care for some contemporary references, although I am sure they’d be far more psyched if I told you they sounded like a mix of Bad Posture and Sick Pleasure (which I guess they kinda do too). The a-side starts off with five seconds of slow-mo punk misery worthy of a Cyanamid reference, and I kinda wish they would explore that side of the coin further (it sounded mighty cool) but their flailing, basement-show hardcore is pretty sweet in its own right, too.
PC Worship Social Rust LP (Dull Tools)
PC Worship is one of those “one dude playing with a varied cast of whatever friends he has willing to join him at a given time” projects. These generally live or die by the leader’s personality – is his or her vision so strong that they can compel Pat Spadine to play circuit-bent tape players and Shannon Sigley to play drums just as they command? I saw PC Worship live once, and remember not understanding what I was watching even as I watched it (and I still haven’t decided if it was cool or not), but this LP is almost certainly cool. All sorts of instruments are employed here, as if the “musical equipment” section of a thriving Goodwill was picked clean and a band based themselves around it, and it leads to a fairly riff-heavy, noisy rock record that stumbles its way through life with a stoned grin. Just flip to “Paper Song (Dig)”, the b-side opener, and watch as a Wooden Shjips song is given the Earth extended-edit treatment and warped in the sun under a Royal Trux spyglass. I’m also picturing a half-asleep Purling Hiss at times, where the riffs are secondary to the chaotic muck beneath them, and wouldn’t you know it’s a pleasant place to end up. The cover art features a costumed human in a strange terrestrial landscape, similar in concept to the first No Doctors album cover and just as righteously obliterated. Keep spendin’ that Parquet Courts money on records like this, Dull Tools! The world shall thank you.
The Pen Test Biology 7″ (Moniker)
Personally, I was more into Physical Education and Study Hall than Biology, but to each their own, right? If anything, it’s a fitting name for this studied electronic EP, digging through the history books written by Morton Subotnick, Kraftwerk and Pierre Schaeffer in search of answers. “Biology A” is a nicely syncopated 2D landscape of ones and zeros, the perfect soundtrack for a time-lapse video of parameciums reproducing. “Biology B” is a little more subdued, gazing upon the same sunrises that fascinated Tangerine Dream and Tomita, and ultimately pretty similar to the final days of Emeralds. I’m also reminded of that Physics 7″ that littered screamo distros in the early ’00s, not in sound at all but because they are both picture-less 7″s named after distinct fields of science. Looking forward to mid-terms with these folks!
Roche Stillhope 12″ (100% Silk)
There are currently two sides to the underground American techno coin, the darkness of L.I.E.S. and the light of 100% Silk. Each label seemingly has an endless supply of mostly-American youngsters with something to show for the hours they’ve spent alone in their bedroom studios, and 100% Silk just delivered another four tracks from Roche. It’s pretty cool stuff, and certainly fits the light/dark analogy from a couple sentences ago – these tracks are uplifting, melodic tracks with sumptuous samples and effortless grooves. I’m thinking you might find Roche somewhere between the instantly-likeable moods of Nebraska and the lush and vaguely-nostalgic sampling of The Avalanches, but it would still make sense in the lineup of a Magic Touch-headlining party. Often the 100% Silk crowd is a little too optimistic and jubilant for my personal techno tastes – any music that conjures an image of Dwayne Wayne doing the cabbage-patch isn’t something I’m going to want to listen to repeatedly, but Roche surely has a deeper catalog of Shake Shakir records (or MP3s) than Fast Eddie, let’s say. Not bad!
Sheer Mag Sheer Mag 7″ (Wilsuns RC)
Has your favorite sports team ever acquired one of the best players in the game, and while you wanted to gloat to all your friends about it, you almost felt kinda bad because that player is just so good that it’s not even fair? Well that’s how I feel about Philadelphia and the recent relocation of Sheer Mag (they got started as a SUNY Purchase band, I believe), a new quintet who just released their debut four-song EP and is ready to take the world by 2015 (or if they don’t, the world is flawed even deeper than I had imagined). Anyway, they absolutely slay: imagine Nasty Facts if they recorded a power-pop single for Gulcher in 1979 under the watchful eye of Red Cross’s McDonald brothers. Or perhaps you should envision Exploding Hearts if they didn’t adhere so strictly to genre boundaries and wiled out on obscure classic rock like Dust and Sir Lord Baltimore before sitting down to practice? I’d say the pitch-perfect heartbroken vocals make the band, but the riffs are so deceptively complex and undeniably catchy, and the recording captures the perfect state of lo-fi garage glory that it’s really a toss-up across the board. If you’re the type of underground acolyte who feels that bands are ruined once Pitchfork asks them about their favorite Nokia Snapchat moments, I suggest you grab this single and spin it dearly as time is ticking.
Siobhan Southgate LP (Opal Tapes)
The parade of mysterious techno dudes using female aliases continues, this one being Siobhan, fresh from a clutch of tapes on noise labels, electronic labels and noise-gone-electronic labels. I feel like my patience for the regularity of this should be wearing thin, but it’s not wearing from Siobhan, because Southgate is a distinct and infectious record. I have no idea where Siobhan is from, but I can’t help but hear a sonic link to Detroit, not just because of its hallowed techno roots but from the Hanson / American Tapes universe, where anyone with the reanimated corpse of a keyboard can cut twenty minutes of uninhibited garbage music onto a tar-and-feathered cassette. That feeling cuts through strongly on the a-side, with Siobhan’s lurching beats thick with the violence of Robocop on homedubbed VHS and garbled vocals that I can’t help but picture Nate Young choking into that contact mic he keeps in his mouth as though it were a pinch of Skoal. Pretty sure Siobhan is repeating “Hell is other people” over and over, and it makes me wonder what would be if Animal Disguise Records was reborn under the mentorship of Jamal Moss. A little steep importing this one into the States (if you can find this for under $25 shipped you should start a blog to tell me about it), but I feel like Southgate is now home where it belongs, in my loving arms.
Chase Smith Falling Out EP 12″ (Harmony Society)
Spray-painted cover, Pennsylvania Dutch-styled label name and center sticker art… I was expecting some home-recorded freak-folk, weren’t you? But nope, this is 2014, and this is 12″ EP is filled with four songs of economy-grade house music. This is my first encounter with the Pittsburgh native, but he’s been at it for a few years, and it shows – while these tracks tend to utilize familiar pads and beats, Smith’s style is refined and his brain is attuned to the dance-floor’s needs. Maybe it’s a regional thing, but I can’t help but feel like this would fit in easily with the Future Times crew, somewhere between Beautiful Swimmers’ balaeric breakdancing and Protect U’s kaleidoscopic crunch. If 100% Silk hasn’t checked out Chase Smith yet, I can imagine it’s only one friend-request away from happening.
Tape/Off Chipper LP (Sonic Masala)
Who can forget Tape/Off, the classic Nicolas Cage / John Travolta thriller where they make mix tapes for each other? It’s also the name of a band from Australia, and unlike Cage/Travolta fan-fiction, it’s not really for me. They play a pretty standard form of post-Siamese Dream, post-Last Splash soft/loud indie-rock, occasionally verging on major-label emo ala Sunny Day Real Estate or MTV buzz-bin rock. I am picking up Bedhead and Constantines vibes too, but that’s just when I really pay close attention. Mostly, Chipper sounds so delightfully normal that it’s almost like listening to nothing at all – it’s like when you pass the same buildings on your way to work, they stop registering as buildings and just become part of the landscape. Admittedly I am the last dude you’ll find with a deep collection of ’90s indie-rock and its varied offspring, so I’m sure there are at least a few hundred life-long Hold Steady / Pavement fans with a gap in their Ikea CD shelf, just waiting for a band like Tape/Off to come along, and I certainly hope that connection is made.
Terekke Terekke 12″ (L.I.E.S.)
Some techno purists have tried to rally a backlash against the massive influx of new producers on the scene, particularly those coming from punk/DIY backgrounds with an affinity for raw, hardware-driven beats. I think it’s a foolish and elitist view, but if I had to sit down with one of those people and listen to this new Terekke 12″, I would be unable to form a valid defense. Seriously, when people talk dismissively of an endless glut of tech-house Johnny Come-Latelys, it’s records like this that come to mind. No artwork or track titles here, and while that wouldn’t make any difference to me on a banging record (I cherish equally-unadorned 12″s by Donato Dozzy and Moodymann), it really speaks to the lack of effort I am witnessing from Terekke here, an artist I otherwise thought was decent. These tracks just seem like the easiest, least thrilling pieces you can make, going through the motions with the gusto of an Amazon shelf-stocker. None of these four tracks out and out suck, and maybe that is part of the problem – the mediocrity is so severe here that it angers me much more than someone mashing the keys of an unquantized Casio would. I am definitely being unfairly harsh toward a record that means well, but damnit, just let me vent, okay?
Torso Community Psychosis 7″ (Adagio 830)
Berlin-based Adagio 830 is one of those quiet workhorses of the underground hardcore economy, pumping out records faster than they can update their website to tell you about and paying particular attention to the US scene while helping the European Union flourish as well. They just released this 7″ by Oakland, CA hardcore band Torso, an ostensibly vegan, feminist (and possibly straight edge?) quartet. I’m quickly reminded of Nine Shocks Terror and Replica in their Japanese-inspired, US-bred hardcore thrash, moving between mid-paced d-beat moshers and frantic thrash-core explosions. Kinda surprised Prank hasn’t snatched Torso up yet, as this sort of talented, fully-formed hardcore is right up their alley, not to mention the Bay Area connection. If you’re the type of person who grabs a vegan donut before heading to the Maximum house to hand in your top ten, you’ve probably already partied with Torso, but for the rest of us Community Psychosis is in stores now.
Una Bèstia Incontrolable Nou Món 7″ (Iron Lung)
Hello, Nou Món! What, no Seinfeld fans? Anyway, Una Bèstia Incontrolable have been making waves since last year’s cool debut album, leading to many Caucasian-American punks attempting their best Spanish accents while pronouncing the band’s name. Personally, I thought their album was good-not-great, with a lot of weirdness for weirdness’ sake (and I couldn’t help but hold them up against hardcore steamroller Destino Final), but people were talking about their live show like it was the Virgin Mary’s face in a piece of toast, so I had to check out this new single on the never-shabby Iron Lung label. Sadly, I did not see them live this go-around (might as well wear a “kick me” sign for the rest of the week), but this 7″ is great, and has converted me from a skeptic to a believer. Mostly I just love how they are a hardcore-punk band that plays slow songs, but they’re not generic hardcore-dirges – somehow Una Bèstia Incontrolable have created a new framework for what hardcore can sound like without being unnaturally “creative” or pushing hardcore in a direction favored by indie rockers (yuck). “Nou Món” sounds like a damn Goatsnake song before the vocals come in, and “Cinturons, Genolis, Vidres I Cossos” follows a psychedelic intro with a near-metallic riff and uniquely aggressive drumming. If their name doesn’t translate in English to “Best Uncontrollable Dudes”, it should.
Universe People Are Coming To The Dance LP (Dragnet)
However you come to Universe People, don’t do it like I did – reading the “ex-A Frames” tag and expecting something remotely close to that. I am fully aware that musicians often play various styles of music, but any mention of A Frames hits too close to home, as they are one of my ’00s-punk favorites. Anyway, once I got over my initial depression and finally came out of the bathroom, I discovered that Universe People are pretty cool. They remind me of a rougher, tougher version of Yellow Fever, with the rigidly simple structure of Prinzhorn Dance School and maybe a touch of Imperial Teen when things get grooving. Are Coming To The Dance comes with a ’90s sort of cool, back when “hipsters” were “scenesters” and The Make Up and The Delta 72 dictated underground fashion guidelines. Fun album for sure, the sort of record that deadpans its humor and laughs through its solemnity.
Urbanoia Psykisk Terror 7″ (Solar Funeral / D-Takt & RÃ¥punk)
You know how they say that like 90% of all dollar bills have trace amounts of cocaine on them? Well, I propose a new theory, that 90% of all walls have had a punk band pose by them for a promo photo at some point. It’s a beautiful thing – just take Urbanoia for example, who look as bored and uncomfortable as any other good hardcore-punk band that stands near a wall for a photo. They offer four songs of raging D-beat hardcore here, reopening Discharge’s wound and soaking up its blood. I am picking up a slight hard-metal feel to some of these tunes, just a hint of Judas Priest’s British Steel peeking out from a tapestry of Anti-Cimex and Svart Framtid patches. That said, this is still incredibly derivative hardcore-punk, of which I mean no slight – might as well do it the right way, you know?
UV Glaze Daily Vomit 7″ (Bachelor)
As soon as I poured this UV Glaze single out of the cardboard, I was excited to give it a spin. Cool band name (are they members of the UV Race messing with us?), non-existent artwork, song-titles like “Daily Vomit” and “Data Corpses”… so far so good. Unfortunately, my hopes for UV Glaze did not match their music, which is cool, but not anything I’d mention to a close friend (not that I don’t consider you, dear reader, a close friend, but you know what I mean). It’s pretty standard garage-y noise-rock, like the most obvious Black Flag riffs played faster than they ever did, with touches of The Reatards, Guitar Wolf and Melvins sprinkled throughout. I’d probably like it just fine if it wasn’t for the singer, who does this off-timed, completely exaggerated drunken slur that I find highly unappealing. He sings his own lyrics, and they might be great, but my mind just translates whatever he’s saying into “I’m so cray-zay, I’m a wild maniac, look at meeeee!”, over and over again. It’s a fun vocal style to try, where you essentially sidestep any critical assessment because you’re already purposely out of control, but I’d rather hear someone else give these songs a vocal try. That’s just me though, so if you enjoy this sort of outrageous Brother Love-esque howling, go on and get yourself glazed.
Vessel Punish, Honey 2xLP (Tri Angle)
Holy Moses, album of the year! That’s what I’m shouting about Vessel’s sophomore album, the sassily-titled Punish, Honey. Last I knew, Vessel was making dark, dubby and unsurprising modern techno, and then he goes and drops this on us, an entirely unique and distinct voice in the world of bludgeoning rhythmic electronics, one that demands its own classification, going far beyond “industrial”, “goth-techno”, “experimental” or anything else you could try to stick on it. Apparently he hand-crafted his own mutant hardware for many of the sounds here, and I believe it – I’ve never heard music as simultaneously queasy and robust as the tracks here. And it’s varied! The first track sounds like Aufgehoben or Fantomas, then it’s followed by the best Demdike Testpressing, and that’s followed with an epic electro-metal dirge befitting Earth or Asunder, sans guitars. Seriously! At first I was picking up some Shackleton vibes, but I’m on my twentieth listen (at least) by now, and I no longer hear anyone but Vessel, really. It’s a diverse-yet-uniform album of music that the world never heard before, and damn if I’m not completely in love.
Void Vision Sour 12″ (Mannequin)
About time someone seriously invested in Void Vision, one of modern cold-wave’s most underrated artists (if you ask me). Just give “Sour” a minute of your time, hell, even thirty seconds, and you’ll be hooked – Void Vision’s Shari Vari is a technological analog whiz-kid like many others, but paired with her keen sense of pop romanticism, it’s all over. “Sour” is a song that could work for Asylum Party or Madonna, for Martial Canterel or La Roux… it just has that timeless quality that could fit onto a cult obscurity or a mainstream smash with similar ease. I’m assuming it’ll be on Void Vision’s upcoming album, but you might be tempted by the b-side too, featuring a Vanzetti & Sacco remix of the title track (pretty basic, warm Italo vibes – I prefer the original) and an instrumental cut that establishes another icy and temperamental mood. Cool EP for sure that I advise checking out, but if you want to wait for the album instead, just promise to save me a spot in line, okay?
Weed Hounds Weed Hounds LP (Katorga Works)
Of all the bands to deserve the moniker of “Weed Hounds”, be it celebratory or punitive… this band? I was expected some riff-worshipping stoner-rock, or maybe even some floaty space-folk, but nah, Weed Hounds are pure post-grunge shoegaze-pop, and a delightful group at that. Their songs chime with the serene majesty of Slowdive but move with the urgency of The Wedding Present, with a vocalist not far removed from the subtle coo of April March. I’m certainly picking up a Darla / Slumberland vibe, which can’t entirely be coincidental, and there are sparks of blissed-out pop-genius that Dum Dum Girls seem to have been chasing on their last album. Top quality stuff here, the sort of project that I can understand why a label as fast-moving as Katorga Works apparently stuck by for five long years until it was finished. Five years to finish a record? I finally understand where the weed came in.
The Young Chrome Cactus LP (Matador)
I first heard The Young’s third album Chome Cactus after Pitchfork delivered their “good luck on tour!” fatality, and it was the sort of brutal review that made me sympathetic to this group of likeable Texan men. I had skipped Dub Egg, and only vaguely recall the icy-hot guitar-centric indie rock of Voyagers Of Legend (it had been a while since I last spun it), so it was nice to hear this one, a fairly simple and unassuming album of pop-leaning rock, the sort of missing underground link between The Replacements and The Foo Fighters (though certainly nowhere near the distinction of either). The vocalist reminds me of some ’90s buzz-bin artist, and it has been driving me nuts trying to figure it out – it’s not Collective Soul, not Sponge, not Soul Asylum… maybe Dishwalla? That’s as close as I can get to figuring it out, but the singer has this sorta chilled-out sneer that works well with tasteful guitars that come from the Neil Young / Dinosaur Jr. axis of power. My kinda easy listening, really.
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