A.D. Skinner A.D. Skinner 7″ (3xReaper)
A.D. Skinner won me over before I heard a single note, thanks to their personnel listed on the back: Sausage Skinner sings, B.D. Skinner and Winner Winner Chicken Skinner on guitars, J.P. Skinner on bass and See More Skinner on drums. It’s not funny, it’s stupid, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s just what the doctor ordered. After spinning this single a few times, I still like A.D. Skinner, although their aliases are certainly the most creative aspect of the band – musically, it’s pretty by-the-books lo-fi garage-punk. Somewhere between The Oblivians and Eastlink, maybe? You’re not going to get a lot of personality out of these songs, just a standard level of workmanship and perhaps an empty beer can or three. I had my hopes up for something more audacious or strange, but I guess there is a level of comfort in this selection of mid-tempo to fast-paced songs, like trying on a new pair of Vans or something – you know exactly what they are going to feel like, and the experience is boring, but it’s still kinda nice anyway.
A Lovely Sort Of Death New Beginnings LP (Water Under The Bridge / Ghoul House)
An Annoying Sort Of Band Name, am I right? Whatever, let’s not judge too harshly before giving it a listen. Although, now that I have spun New Beginnings more than once (but not too many times more than that), I can say that any discomfort I felt reading their band name was an appropriate warning to the unexciting music contained within. I’d describe their sound as working-class old-guy screamo, if such a genre exists – A Lovely Sort Of Death sounds like a band raised on Touch & Go Records radio samplers from 1993, albeit without the gusto to properly recreate The Jesus Lizard or the technicality to recreate Drive Like Jehu themselves. It sounds like the singer just does wild screaming because he has no idea how else to do it, and for a band that clearly appreciates rock n’ roll, namely the power-trio format, their sound is incredibly weak – I swear, on some of these tracks it sounds like the bass was unplugged and recorded off a room mic, its oomph is that slight. I don’t wanna rip these guys any further, I am sure they are solid dudes who have some crap to get off their chests like anyone else, I just kinda wish I had no idea they ever created an outlet for it called A Lovely Sort Of Death.
The Bad Doctors Burning City LP (FDH)
Are there any happy punk bands anymore? Seems like modern underground punk is one big scowl-off, and that includes The Bad Doctors. To quote a screamo legend, there is no happy here, just punchy punk rock, indebted to synthy new-wave and gothic post-punk. At times I’m reminded of a bleepy-bloopy version of Defektors (who I heard have a new album on the way; finally!), or perhaps Puerto Rico Flowers played at Ramones speed. I’m kinda surprised that Bad Doctors seem to exist as a Philadelphian secret (they’re new to me, and I actually live here), as Burning City is nicely crafted and an above-average entry into the punk rock depression sweepstakes; the perfect album for an Exploding Hearts fan who’s been on the verge of getting into Interpol but never quite made the leap. Might even be some commercial marketability here, if they dedicated themselves to writing a pop hit for album number two. No matter what they decide to do in the future, I wish them well!
Bentcousin Dizzy 7″ (Teen Love)
Bold move of Bentcousin to not include their band name (or any info besides the record label address and URL) on the packaging of this record, save for the center stickers – either they have zero faith that anyone will flip past this record in a brick-and-mortar record store and want to buy it because they are familiar with the band, or they simply don’t care (or maybe I’ve put more thought into it than they have). The cover art looks like the type of Instagram pic your high school cousin would receive a dazzlingly large number of likes for, and that kinda sums up the music too, in a way. “Dizzy” is essentially H&M-centric indie music, music that simultaneously sounds like indie rock and radio pop (a dude even raps over one part) and probably assimilates Can and Vashti Bunyan and Skankin’ Pickle in equal measure. “2014” is gonna be dated in less than six months, but clearly Bentcousin are delighted to exist in our modern times where every new song has an expiration date three months into the future, ready to be removed from Spotify and Soundcloud playlists as quickly as it was added. It’s not a bad single, but rather another signpost for how quickly music has morphed from a thing that costs money into a disposable lifestyle accessory, and while it’s sending pangs of fear down my spine, there are surely hundreds of kids who are delighted to take photos of themselves while half-listening to Bentcousin.
Blood Pressure Blood Pressure 7″ (Beach Impediment)
Blood Pressure are a new Pittsburgh hardcore group, although the guys in the band have been around for what seems like forever, playing in bands like Brain Handle and Direct Control (to name but a couple highlights). I swear I’m not just being lazy when I say that it kinda just sounds like a mix of Brain Handle and Direct Control, too – you’ve got wildman Ed Steck on vocals, sounding deceivingly youthful and gnarly as ever, and a more-than-capable band backing him up with fast riffs that kick up dust similar to Poison Idea, Headcleaners and Koro. With song titles like “Peace Sucks / Low Class” and “Deceptive Fiction”, not to mention Steck’s literary focus, the lack of a lyric sheet is disappointing, as I’d love to know what he’s coughing up and ranting about while the band rages forward. Regardless, cool stuff from a band that I hope continues to develop, even with word that Steck has relocated to Florida (I swear I’m not stalking the guy – I just hear things, you know?).
Bronze Teeth O Unilateralis 12″ (Diagonal)
Powell truly knocked me on my can this year, to the point where I am now buying Diagonal releases (he runs the label) sight unseen, sound unheard. So far, this has been a fantastic life decision, recently evidenced by this Bronze Teeth 12″, the debut EP of Factory Floor’s Dominic Butler and some Optimo-related guy (never a bad sign). Well, no surprises here: this is a tense, forward-thinking slab of un-techno. “Tapeworm” runs the a-side, and it reminds me of one of those recent Vladislav Delay EPs in the way it just refuses to quit, drilling a singular algorithm into your skull while two sets of hands calmly twist knobs. “Acetone” kicks off the b-side with less brute force, more cunning restraint, interlacing a twitchy beat with undulating analog waves, the sort of track that elicits a physical reaction even though on paper it shouldn’t. “Glass Tooth” wraps things up similarly, although the sound palate calls to mind Luciano circa No Model No Tool or some other ’00s minimal-techno player, warped beyond the dance-floor. Apparently there’s already another Bronze Teeth 12″ out, and if you don’t think it’s already en route to my estate you really know nothing about me.
Code BMUS Strike Now, There Is No Cover 12″ (Ever/Never)
All new bands could suddenly cease to exist at this point, and us music fans could still probably go another few decades surviving on reissues of obscurities we never knew existed. It seems like every conceivable genre has hundreds of gems waiting to be unearthed, and early UK DIY post-punk is certainly one of them – take this reissue of Code BMUS’s debut 12″ EP, for instance. I had never heard of them before, and was simply going on Ever/Never’s fine reputation (they’ve only released one Exiles From Clowntown record thus far, but that’s good enough for me), and it’s a fine shard of early ’80s art-school angst. They certainly would’ve fit right in with the Fuck Off Records / Door And The Window crowd, but Code BMUS seem to take direction from Nick Cave’s operatic outlandishness (the vocals seem particularly inspired) and a bit of Crass’s inventive instrumentation as well. This EP blows by quickly, usually with the singer ranting ecstatically while a de-tuned bass plods alongside a standard drum kit and someone clanks some glass bottles or plucks a rubberband for accompaniment. I didn’t read the giant hand-written insert (I prefer to receive my headaches through other means), but I can tell Code BMUS were politically inspired as well, as were many of their contemporaries. A cool introduction, and another record to add to my ever-expanding want list (Ever/Never did a fine job, but I’m a sucker for originals – you just can’t reissue that smell).
Cremation Lily Fires Frame The Silhouette LP (Alter)
Been digging the abstract electronics / disruptive noise of the Alter label lately, who can be counted on for thoughtful and well-designed records, even if paying the import price stings. Cremation Lily has been churning out ugly ambient / power-electronics for the past few years, and has found a suitable home on Alter, in the form of this full-length vinyl debut. It’s pretty cool – these tracks usually feature a depressed, coroded synth, endlessly delayed sound-effects and perhaps a manipulated tape or two, frequently yielding an avant-garde, nearly psychedelic power-electronics sound. I’m strongly reminded of Prurient during his Black Vase period or the most recent Damien Dubrovnik material, where the listener is forced to dig through tons of rubble to find trace remnants of rave music, shattered and destroyed. A washing machine filled with sticks and rocks might be used as an anti-rhythm while a cocktail of wind and radio static is poured over at Cremation Lily’s bar. The poetic song titles also recall a very Prurient / Posh Isolation aesthetic, one that is certainly becoming de rigueur in modern noise, but Cremation Lily manages to keep his sound fresh, through a keen sense of timing and intriguing source-material selection.
The Deep Freeze Mice The Best Of The Deep Freeze Mice LP (Night People)
Based on Night People’s track record, on first look I figured this was some Midwestern basement weirdo poking fun at the idea of a “greatest hits” collections, but wrong was I – The Deep Freeze Mice were an actual real band back in the ’80s, with more than enough albums to qualify for such a collection (how did a guy like me not already know this?). They sounded pretty nice, too – they’ve got kind of a dry-humored art-school new-wave thing going on, and I’d offer references like Shop Assistants, The Family Fodder, Art Bears and maybe even Girls At Our Best, although that last one might be slightly off – The Deep Freeze Mice were clearly uninterested in entertaining predictable punk rock audiences. I can certainly see this band meaning a hell of a lot to a small group of people – they’re rich with the sort of self-deprecating charm that only comes from England, and their songs are fun and memorable enough that The Deep Freeze Mice could quickly become the type of band you put on mixtapes or list on internet profiles. The liner notes reveal that this band is as snarky as ever, in a good way, and while I wasn’t expecting Night People to get on the reissue train, they certainly picked wisely.
Donato Dozzy Terzo Giorno 12″ (Stroboscopic Artefacts)
One of the biggest complaints I get from people who are curious about techno but have yet to fully dive in is that they have no idea where to start. The techno universe is vast and intimidating, no doubt about it, but if you’re a techno-dabbler and have wondered about Donato Dozzy (and I can only hope that you have), please, start here! This 12″ has four tracks, and while it is far from a comprehensive sampler of his talent, it’s a masterful EP and a fine place to begin. It opens with “Il Canto Della Maga”, a frozen tundra of wind-chimes and brittle air, completely beatless and an appropriate mood-reset for whatever it was you were doing right before putting this on. It’s followed by “Il Canto Della Maga Part II”, a prime cut of Dozzy’s chase-scene techno, the perfect music for running down an empty subway corridor with a briefcase filled with the antidote required to save the president’s life. Flip it over for “Terzo Giorno”, which bangs even harder, akin to the meatiest Regis production but with Shackleton’s selection of alien percussion. “Sotto Ma Sotto” wraps things up with more mind-numbing locomotion; it’s monolithic, precise and deeply satisfying. If you buy a copy and hate it, just write me and I’ll buy it off you to just give to someone else, seriously, because I have determined that sharing the music of Donato Dozzy is my mission in life.
Margaret Dygas In Wood / That Oops 12″ (Perlon)
What better way to celebrate Perlon’s 100th release than two new cuts from Margaret Dygas, right? She’s the perfect wild-card, and doesn’t disappoint with these two tracks. “In Wood” is very slight, fragile tech-house, almost free of bass and guided solely by some sort of alien jazz music – I’m reminded of wherever Herbie Hancock’s spacepod was flying on the cover of Thrust as Dygas guides me through “In Wood”. “That Oops” is a little speedier, opting for a more traditional percussion loop, at least until she starts errantly tossing sound effects as if engaged in a playful food fight. I’m strongly reminded of Joe on both of these tracks, in the way that they both seem to emanate from alternate musical universes, as well as their kitchen-sink approach to sample application. Maybe a touch of Villalobos’s Sei Es Drum-period playfulness can be found here too, not to mention his longer-form, patient construction. Very cool, unique stuff from Dygas, who has made a career out of balking at the rules, much to her musical benefit and ours.
Ekman Untitled 12″ (Panzerkreuz)
I generally love any techno guy whose name sounds like an esoteric Mega Man boss (this explains my continued love affair with Ramadanman), so I had to check out Ekman, some solitary lunatic out of the Netherlands who insists on releasing a slew of unfriendly acid-house tracks with little or no corresponding information. This new 12″ is untitled, as are all of its tracks, and while it’d be nice to have something to refer to, it kind of fits here – these all feel like variations on a theme, the theme being “4:00 am Molly ingestion at a squat-house bonfire rave”. Ekman will usually send some foreboding synth-chord high in the sky, and then send in the ground-troops in the form of a wiggly, uncageable acid line. Sometimes it gets downright industrial, other times it takes the form of a minimalist update on New Beat, but it never strays far from the vision of one man, a few pieces of hardware and a whole lot of cables. Naturally, some of these tracks are stronger than others, but taken as a whole I can’t imagine that anyone who enjoys the current L.I.E.S. landscape would find any fault with Ekman.
King Tears Mortuary Asleep At The Wheel Of Fortune 7″ (Vacant Valley)
The Sims-style video-game art on the cover of this King Tears Mortuary has me tingling with pleasant nostalgia, and it’s a good way to emotionally enter Asleep At The Wheel Of Fortune, a perky little six-song EP of raucous indie-pop. They’ve got two singers, one of whom reminds me of a bratty Rose Melberg, while the other has this “excitable European game-show host from 1985” voice, and let me tell you, this combo works wonderfully! And when they open “ABCs” with what is basically one note off from The Mighty Mighty Bosstones’ “Impression That I Get” riff, I’m too busy smiling to care. I feel like they crammed six songs on this EP not because their songs are short, but because they play them so vigorously that they blew through six songs in the time it would take most bands to get through three. Very enjoyable, upbeat indie-punk – if it wasn’t for seasonal allergies, I’d go roll around in the grass with King Tears Mortuary on my Walkman.
Litanic Mask Vampire LP (Audraglint)
Nice to check out some new Audraglint releases, a label I hold dear for the Pulseprogramming records they released a decade or so ago (the first name in emo electronic music, as far as I’m concerned). Vampire is my first Litanic Mask experience, and while the name might call to mind Tom Cruise with fangs (or Klaus Kinski in a cape), it’s actually a very light and airy record, with a visually-appropriate white and silver cover. Litanic Mask play a misty, dreamy form of synth-pop, like an electro-Tamaryn, or perhaps a less-distinct Zola Jesus (there are at least a couple songs with big sweeping three-chord choruses not unlike a Zola Jesus production). I’d say it has all the markings of a Not Not Fun electro act, right alongside Sapphire Slows and Maria Minerva, but there’s a certain seriousness and emotional sincerity here that Not Not Fun artists don’t usually employ. It’s a good listen, if not a supremely memorable one, but if you’ve ever wanted to curl up on the couch and feel sorry about your failed relationships while sipping some herbal tea, Litanic Mask are ready to help you through the healing process.
Manateees Seek Help 7″ (Total Punk)
I respect the Total Punk label on the same level that I respect Charles Barkley and Leslie Nielsen, just true experts of their craft, but I was a little wary of this band, what with their silly spelled-wrong name (presumably for ease of Googling, which doesn’t help their case – who cares if some random jerk can find you easily on the internet or not, you think they have a briefcase with a million dollars they wanna give you?). This single certainly isn’t the finest of the Total Punk pack, but it’s still worthy of bearing their red-stamped logo. “Hate On Parade” sounds like Richie Charles fronting The Kill-A-Watts, with meaty mid-tempo garage-punk and done-with-life vocal haranguing. The b-side “Struggle” has a similar feel, kinda like if Dogs’ “Slash Your Face” had a younger brother who just wanted to skateboard and eat M&Ms for dinner. Surprisingly mean-sounding for a band named after such a sweetly harmless mammal, but maybe that extra e stands for evil. It doesn’t stand for eloquent, at least.
Missionary American Strike EP 7″ (Warthog Speak)
Been hearing about Missionary for a while, as their name is frequently mentioned in discussions of top-notch contemporary modern hardcore (and besides, it’s a cool name for a hardcore band). After a few spins through American Strike (even on the 4th of July, which was enough to make an eagle cry a single tear), I can understand why Missionary are being discussed – they’re great! Like most modern hardcore bands, they are clearly well versed in hardcore’s rich history, picking and choosing only the best aspects for themselves: a Poison Idea lead, a No Comment blast, Impalers’ momentum, a Stop And Think breakdown, The Abused’s drum sound, Lack Of Interest’s high-speed steamroller… the annotations are endless. It would be easy to lose any sense of identity when crafting hardcore music from so many ingredients, but Missionary hold it together nicely, with gruff-yet-intelligible vocals and a tight trio of players behind it. All this with a cool pocket-sleeve and a big-ass newsprint poster worthy of tacking up on your bedroom wall. Romance tip: make sure the poster is in perfect webcam view, just over your right shoulder, so the next time you’re Skyping with your internet crush they’ll be impressed by your distinctive taste in hardcore.
Naked Island Naked Island LP (Peak Oil)
Grab a big palm leaf and cover up, you’re on Naked Island, baby! I dig that this two-song album (if you wanna call it that – seems more like an EP to me, but who I am to judge, and these songs are damn long) comes with a little holographic sticker on the cover and not much else, because it’s the kind of meditative, sensual techno that you can imagine your own world around – your creativity is the only limitation. The a-side is called “Deep, Transcendent Waves Of Golden Light”, and while you might not have a strong conversation with God as it plays, it’s a pretty wide-scale shot of barely-beat-oriented electronic music. At first, it comes across like a ghost talking over a Dolphins Into The Future track, but then the beat rolls in and it feels more like Petar Dundov’s corpse washing onto the shore of a shimmering, white-sand beach. Not a whole lot of progression, just kind of a weightless stasis, but it’s a nice place to be. “Play It As It Lays” isn’t as gleaming, but the formula remains the same, casting these wide synth nets over an unchanging percussion loop and just letting it all slowly disperse like a recently-unplugged smoke machine, simmering until the room fades to a smoky white. It’s not dance-floor material, nor does it seem particularly composed beyond letting the drum-loop rip and just kinda holding down keys over top – this record could’ve easily taken a couple hours to conceptualize and perform, but I can get down with that approach as much as some Autechre track that took months to produce. Not sure I’ll be drifting over to Naked Island again in the future, but I certainly enjoyed my stay.
Neutron Rats Bomb Worship EP 7″ (Loud Punk)
On the verge of becoming a reissue label, Loud Punk step back into the present with Albany, NY’s Neutron Rats. They a play a familiar hardcore-punk style, somewhere between Bloodkrow Butcher, Nine Shocks Terror and Gauze, but you know, far less distinct than any of those bands. Their riffs might veer toward the metallic side of things, as far as the picking-style is concerned, but this is music meant for people with Disclose back-patches and Sickoids t-shirts, not Testament fans. Four songs, all quite straight-forward and raging, to the point where I am quickly running out of creative ways to talk about it – it’s the best kind of generic, in that sense, even without a single skull featured in their artwork. Maybe if they worked in a cover of the Weirdos’ “We Got The Neutron Bomb” that they changed to “We Are The Neutron Rats”, I’d have more to say, but until that time, rest assured that the Albany punks have at least one good reason to spend time in someone’s basement on a Friday night.
Pangaea Pob 12″ (Hadal)
Pangaea is responsible for some of the most fascinating (and banging) post-dubstep tracks of the late ’00s, and while not all of his records connect with me in the same way, I’m always down to check in – just like the super-continent of the same name, Pangaea hasn’t stayed in the same place. Glad I scoped this four-song EP on the new Hadal label, because it’s some of his best stuff in recent memory. “Pob” opens it up with a very hands-on groove, with seemingly every part shifting in different ways (that tweaked arpeggio is constantly in flux) and it’s a fascinating dance to behold. “Mackerel” follows, and it’s surprisingly straightforward, although not in a bad way – it’s faster than usual and its energy is cheekily utilized. Flip it over for “Ivy”, the hit of the EP. Pangaea always had a unique knack for the art of vocal manipulation, and this one features a booming dancehall toast flipped into an instantly memorable, hands-in-the-air jam. Lastly, “Solvent” cools things down with a lurching, twitchy stumble, sure to appeal to fans of Hessle Audio’s weirder and more difficult tracks. Great stuff all around, but “Ivy”‘s the one that will have them climbing down from the rafters in an effort to get closer to the dance-floor (or the speakers).
Perspex Flesh Perspex Flesh 12″ (Static Shock)
Not sure why, must be the American patriot in me (that’s what I get for listening to so much 97a), but I’ve always had this prejudice against British hardcore groups. It’s not fair, I know, but while there hasn’t been much that really moved me, a band like Perspex Flesh might be enough to change my perspective. They’re from Leeds, and while I dug their 7″ EP last year, this 12″ really sticks out. The singer has this commanding bark somewhere between the guy from Vile Gash and Joe Denunzio, and the band is adequately equipped to wrangle his meaty shout. The music is pretty gnarly, and it’s one of those hardcore records where it seems like they are playing incredibly fast, just from the intensity of it all, even though if I actually pay close attention, it becomes evident that many of these songs are mid-paced or speedy, but never truly blazing. It’s not a thinking-person’s hardcore band, though, which of course is a good thing – Perspex Flesh clearly put time and effort into making their songs unique, but it feels perfectly simple and raging, ready to be filed somewhere in between Poison Idea and Iron Lung (not literally – everyone knows hardcore records are meant to be filed alphabetically). After that utterly masterful Love Triangle album, and this, I’m putting Static Shock (and UK hardcore in general) on close watch.
Priests Bodies And Control And Money And Power 12″ (Sister Polygon / Don Giovanni)
Let’s face it, Priests are on the short-list of great contemporary American punk bands, so I was looking forward to this EP like a child awaits Christmas morning (actually, scratch that, I still love Christmas as much as any random child). Their debut 7″ was its own disturbed form of simplistic post-punk, and as they shifted into a more streamlined and adept group, it was time they had a piece of wax to match. That time is upon us! These seven tracks are Priests set-list staples, and for good reason – these are the songs you want the band to play, ranging from jagged and weird to bizarrely heavy and mean, checking off references like Bikini Kill and Avengers and Meltdown and Sleater Kinney while never really sounding like any of them for too long. The whole band seems possessed by their own personal demons, but rather than succumb to darkness they twist it in their favor, like Peter Parker’s spider bite (I truly believe Priests could be someone’s heroes). And before I say anything stupider, these songs are easily some of the catchiest, most feel-good punk rock I’ve heard in quite some time, all with that fiercely independent vigor that I foolishly thought died with Black Eyes in DC. If Priests don’t conquer the world in a year, it’s our fault, not theirs.
Rat Columns Leaf LP (R.I.P Society)
Always nice to hear from Rat Columns, who have blossomed from Total Control / Lace Curtain / Rank/Xerox member David West’s bedroom meanderings to a prim and polished rock unit. Their debut LP Sceptre Hole took me by surprise, as its pleasantly bittersweet strumming had me thinking of The Get-Up Kids, which certainly wasn’t where I expected Rat Columns to go, but it still had its own peculiar little twist, and hell, I like The Get-Up Kids. I was all prepared to sew a Karate patch onto my Jansport as I first threw on Leaf, and while some of Rat Columns’ familiar emotions are front and center (melancholia, introspection, sensitivity, longing), this follow-up album veers in a slightly different musical direction. Moreso than Mineral or Jimmy Eat World, I’m reminded of bands from the mid ’80s who were heavily Smiths-influenced but still came at music from a punk (read: not corporate) angle, like maybe Orange Juice or Aztec Camera, all with a moody jangle not far from The Cure. And rather than jump between parts, Rat Columns take an almost krautrock-esque repetition to their songcraft, an approach that I find quite enjoyable. It’s actually the poppiest, hook-laden tracks that I favor the most here, as Rat Columns seem to have really figured out their way around a sunshine-y melody without cracking a smile, although it could be the small selection of solemn art-dirges that provide a notable contrast. Whatever the case, Rat Columns are alright by me, evolving on their own terms and enigmatically fun.
Mike Rep And Friends Darby Creek Drifter LP (540)
Mike Rep has already cemented his status as an American outsider-rock legend, exhaled in the same breath as Neil Young and Lux Interior by annoying record collectors everywhere. I’m not one to disagree, though, and this new album of country or country-fied tunes reveals another layer to this man’s meaty onion. I have to say though, if this LP came without any information, I certainly wouldn’t peg it as the work of a weirdo-rock legend – nope, Darby Creek Drifter is a fairly straight-forward shot, reminiscent of something Folkways would’ve produced in the early ’80s or any other sort of dollar-bin private-press rural rocker you might find languishing with severe water damage in the back of a Good Shepherd. Very pleasant stuff, even slipping a “Pale Blue Eyes” cover in the middle of some Cherry Blossoms-esque cabin jams, but never particularly strange or delirious, just nice and expected country rock n’ roll. Probably the Mike Rep record most likely to become a Ben & Jerry’s flavor, so good for him on that.
Resist Control Cessation LP (Peterwalkee / Feral Kid)
Resist Control are an upstate New York hardcore band, continuing to dispel any notions that upstate New York equates to mosh-metal with this debut LP. It’s ultra-fast hardcore music, with plenty of stop-on-a-dime riff-changes and seemingly endless blastbeats, boasting a level of technical precision (particularly regarding the drums) that even the most calloused Behold The Arctopus fan would raise an eyebrow toward. It’s pretty good, but never does it rise above “pretty good”, and here’s why: the singer has an unremarkable voice, and when the beats are slower than a full-on blast, he almost always sings directly on the beat, which makes for kind of a monotonous, predictable template. And while the drums are absolutely flawless and dazzling, the overall recording (and snare sound in particular) renders it kind of powerless – it’s kind of like listening to a bag of popcorn popping in 4/4 time. Next time, Resist Control, play your producer a Framtid record before he or she starts mixing! Not a bad band by any stretch, but much as I feared after semi-enjoying their debut 7″, there isn’t any natural hardcore magic here, just masterful competency.
Roachclip Calmer In This Town 7″ (Quemada)
Well looky here, Quemada’s tenth release. This American label has been providing us with some of the best pensive and amateurish avant-rock that Australia has to offer, and they take it on back home for this new Roachclip single. For some reason, I assumed Roachclip were just one of those cool little side projects you hear from once and never again, but they’ve got a few records under their belt now, and it’s nice to see they are taking seriously their non-serious music. “Masters Dew” is a cool 7″ a-side – it starts off in the garage, maybe somewhere between Quintron and Eat Skull, before slowly liquifying into a flammable ooze that removes all rust and paint on its way down the drain. Not many bands can devolve a single song like this! “Cast Of Clowns” is on the flip, and it feels like Sic Alps covering their favorite British Invasion tunes while simultaneously swimming across the English Channel, getting stung by jellyfish and swallowing far too much saltwater in the process. Roachclip seems like a fun band to be a part of, like you can completely do the wrong thing on your instrument and no one will care, and that sort of positive vibe rubs off on me, the listener, too. Cheers!
Nathan Roche Magnetic Memories LP (Glenlivet-A-Gogh)
I love it when records show up out of the blue and whisk me away to an unexpected foreign land, especially when they appear as innocuous and, well, boring as Nathan Roche’s Magnetic Memories did when I first pulled the plastic off it. Little did I know that Nathan Roche is the type of guy who will wink and turn your glass of water into a frozen margarita, morph your work-boots into flip-flops and your mindset from clear to hungover, just like that. I’m reminded of a deeper, darker Jonathan Richman, maybe a little Nilsson, a whiff of Dan Melchior’s odd pop sensability, and just a smidge of Wazmo Nariz (if more musically and aesthetically than vocally). More than any other reference, though, I can’t help but think about how this is exactly how I wish Girls sounded when I first heard them, that out-of-nowhere Fader and Pitchfork hype-band that seemingly disappeared from the collective consciousness as swiftly as they entered. Magnetic Memories eloquently and drunkenly expresses a rainbow of emotional confusion, with half a decade of rock history behind it, as fascinating to pick apart as it is to just throw on as background music and forget about. Doesn’t hurt that Roche looks like a lanky dork who doesn’t know he’s a dork, either, like an alternate Eric Foreman from That 70’s Show. It’s like a hustler teen from a Robert Altman film started his own band – how can you go wrong with that?
Rüz Rüz 7″ flexi (Lumpy)
So when I heard that Lumpy & The Dumpers had their own record label, putting out other associated oddities, how could I not be interested? These guys have cultivated a distinct aesthetic, for sure, and it carries over beautifully to this Rüz flexi – I was instantly won over by the skinhead eating garbage out of a boot on the cover, not to mention the “six-song one-sided green flexi” format, which to me is like unlimited texting and data to a teenager. It’s the absolute best form of punk rock record gimmickry, if you ask me. Anyway, Rüz sound great too – fast, maniacal hardcore that feels like something that would’ve come out of the late ’90s Clevo scene (I’m thinking Gordon Solie Motherfuckers, Puncture Wound, maybe even a little Cider), with a touch of Tear It Up when it comes to the alternating oompah-beat / thrash-beat song construction. Classic sounding hardcore, for sure, but not in a way that seems like a deliberate attempt to replicate 1982, which is somewhat refreshing. Records like this make me want to start a distro, and when bands cause me to find new ways to engage in new money-losing endeavors, you know it’s good.
Thee Samedi Lost Faith 7″ (Forbidden Seabass)
Cool concept here: a DIY venue / “teen center” called Ground Zero out of Washington state started their own label, with every aspect of the record, from the recording to the sleeve printing, being made by a Ground Zero associate. Nice to see people are still able to get things together without resorting to the self-entitled pleas of Kickstarter, and lucky Thee Samedi for being a part of that scene! Anyway, might as well talk about the band, too – Thee Samedi are one of those herky-jerky screamo-garage bands, the sort of sound that was popular right around the turn of the century, not unlike Panthers or Aim Of Conrad or early Racebannon. It’s not a style that particularly enthralls me, post-Nation Of Ulysses underground sass-rock, but Thee Samedi are fine purveyors of it, from the singer’s shrieks to the guitar / bass interplay. I guess someone’s gotta wear skin-tight black slacks and wingtips these days, and better them than me. If it’s your bag too, might as well spend a minute to investigate a worthy community-based effort such as this.
Self Abuse Teenage LP (Loud Punk)
I’ve been spinning the External Menace LP that came out alongside this Self Abuse LP so much that I admittedly forgot about this one for a bit. External Menace are just that good! Self Abuse are another early British punk reissue, this one coming from a 1983 cassette-only release, nicely cleaned up and completed by a pretty cool Wolfman skull on the cover and a delightfully awkward album title (“Teenage” what?). The music, however, doesn’t do much to rise above the masses. For something called Teenage, Self Abuse obtained a pretty professional recording quality and clearly were talented musicians, even back then. It’s just that this is the sort of mid-paced, non-energetic, occasionally-melodic street-punk that I usually find to be pretty boring, as is the case here. Some bands are forced into obscurity out of random fate, while others never make it because they’re mediocre, and I fear Self Abuse are the latter.
Sons Of Magdalene Move To Pain LP (Audraglint)
Move To Pain is the debut album of Josh Eustis, formerly of Telefon Tel Aviv (who I’ve never actually heard, but read their name countless times in zines or wherever). It’s my understanding that Telefon Tel Aviv were a bit more on the ‘experimental’ side of things, which is interesting because there isn’t much experimenting going on with Sons Of Magdalene – this is straightforward techno-pop. It’s a mellow, evasive form of modern synth-wave music, though, as there are no bangers, no ultra-glossy synths or vivid splashes of color – this is a record that sits on a black couch in a room with the shades drawn. Definitely picking up some emo vibes too, in the forlorn vocals and misty melodies, to the point where I can comfortably say that Sons Of Magdalene exists somewhere between Nihiti and Cold Cave. Usually, when this sort of music is sad, the synths get all icy and dour, even mean-sounding at times, but Sons Of Magdalene come with more desperation and weariness than any sort of anger. It feels more honest because of that, and while Move To Pain is mostly too shy of a record to grab my attention, I may need it in the future.
Sterilized Zero Sum Game 7″ (Warthog Speak)
The tank on the cover of this Sterilized 7″ isn’t nearly large enough, as far as representing the music that lies within – Sterilized is like 80% tank, 20% grim reaper, if you ask me. Very heavy, chugging hardcore that’s clearly sought out Shitlickers and Anti-Cimex for inspiration, but never to the point of parody or worship. Sterilized just knew the right place to start, and have taken the reigns with vigor. Normally I’d dismiss the war-atrocity aesthetic, it’s just been done to death (no pun intended), but this art is just particularly cool, and the music of Sterilized is raging enough that the grave subject matter is handled appropriately. Four songs here, all pretty severe, and certainly worth the attention of anyone who considers themselves a follower of raging hardcore-punk. Great band for sure, but if these guys want to really commit, I recommend that they skip the fairly rote practice of getting band tattoos and go straight for band vasectomies – Sterilized for life!
Torn Hawk Quadrifolio 2×7″ (no label)
I love Torn Hawk, and I love the double 7″ EP format, so this was a heavenly match-up for me. Torn Hawk is one of the most distinctive electronic artists to come out of the L.I.E.S. camp, seemingly unhindered by genre or musical guidelines, bounded only by his own imagination. There are four tracks here, and they are what I’ve come to expect from Torn Hawk – smeared, reconfigured electro-wave with strong nods to ’80s cable-access culture and boxes of VHS tapes left on the neighbor’s curb, full of crap and surprises. Nothing here grooves too hard or is particularly dance-floor accessible – this is Torn Hawk jamming at his own pace, seemingly both on auto-pilot and manning the controls with an expert’s grip. They’re all instrumentals, but each track comes with non-verbalized lyrics or explanations, offering unique insight into Torn Hawk’s psyche. Quadrifolio‘s only shortcoming is its brevity, but that just gives me the chance to play it over and over, an option I plan on pursuing.
Peter J. Woods Impure Gold Pt. 1 12″ (FTAM)
Peter J. Woods is a multimedia artist, and as you may have suspected, one of those media formats is audio. Judging from the cover art, I was expecting Impure Gold Pt. 1 to sound like a mix of The Boredoms and Henry Fiat’s Open Sore, but (sadly) that’s not the case – there isn’t even the slightest sensation of excitement to be found here. Rather, Woods slowly builds up tiny waves of white noise and radio interference, like you’re in a fairly moderate wave-pool but you somehow developed cramps anyway. Even at its harshest, Woods manipulates silence to his own nefarious end, invoking a subtle terror through processed computer voices and the absence of sonic destruction, which is kind of a neat little trick. I am sure that a live performance of Impure Gold Pt. 1, with Woods in a strange outfit or some sort of video presentation or whatever, would really inject the piece with excitement, but while this 12″ is clearly only one side of the story, it’s still provocative in its own way. These Midwestern noise folks, I tell ya – their lack of pretense and trendy performance venues leave them in this great position where they’ve got nothing to lose by just letting it all hang out. Or anti-hang out, in the case of Peter J. Woods.
Another Dark Age compilation 12″ (Another Dark Age)
I can tell that the noise-techno trend is reaching max capacity, with all sorts of ex-Wolf Eyes imitators throwing their hats in the ring, but in the meantime, I am gonna keep loving it so long as it’s killer, as is the case with this new info-less 12″ compilation, Another Dark Age’s inaugural release. There is zero artist info in the packaging (I wonder if it bums the artists out, or if they’re cool with that?), but thankfully I have internet access, and was able to determine that the bass-heavy turbulence and industrial-ambient clatter of the first track is the work of Phantom Selector – very cool sounds here, like a beatless Kerridge. It’s followed by Victim’s “Victim”, a very Regis-like occult techno jam with Neubauten-style percussion, perfect for dark ceremonies in caves and anyone who owns more than one cloak. The only artist on here I was previously familiar with, Form A Log, starts the b-side with a loop-based jam that seems to combine the lopsided flow of Eats Tapes with the cold concrete of This Heat’s experimental nature. Carrier wraps it up with “Bilge”, the least distinctive cut here, but still a fine image of a dystopian techno wasteland, where you have to ride your motorcycle across vast expanses of desert in search of pounding 4/4 beats. Hoping this isn’t the last I hear of Another Dark Age!
The Abandos The Abandos 7″ (no label)
I’ll admit, the debut Abandos lathe-cut 8″ was cool, but I figured it’d be a while before I heard from them again. Not so – apparently The Abandos have cleaned the FNU Ronnies stink from their clothes and set their sights on being a functioning, active punk group, and that’s cool with me! This debut 7″ has at least two of the same cuts as the 8″ / demo (or at least two of them are eerily familiar), but seeing as there can’t be more than a couple dozen people in possession of that lathe, this is a far more accessible record, and certainly worth your time. The Abandos have an early American punk sound, cigarette firmly in mouth, with Klaus Flouride guitar riffing, wacked-out vocals ala The Weirdos (or maybe some sort of failed Devo imitation?) and just a basic negative-but-cool vibe, like they know their car is currently being ticketed but they don’t plan on paying it anyway. I dig the art too, like a youthful Savage Pencil raised on Marvel comic violence, and it all fits together as one nice chunk of jangly, paranoid punk rock.
The Achtungs Full Of Hate 7″ (Total Punk)
Not a lot of peaceful optimism coming from the Total Punk camp, as recently evidenced by The Achtungs’ Full Of Hate. It’s not a militant, genocidal kind of hate, thankfully, so much as an “I wish my parents and neighbors and teachers and classmates were all dead” sort of philosophy that rings out of the title track, fairly mid-paced and with a rocking little lead that pops out of the chorus time and time again. I was thinking The Achtungs had kind of a Teengenerate vibe, until I got to the traditional garage-pop melody of “I Don’t Wanna Talk About It”, which of course The Achtungs slobber all over, but even under all that filth it’s still the sort of tune you can play for garage-rock purists without controversy. Both songs are in and out in under a couple minutes (rock music is always best when it finishes before your frozen burrito in the microwave), and while this record is about as thought provoking as any given Hägar the Horrible strip, it’s understandably Total Punk.
Oren Ambarchi Stacte Karaoke 12″ (Black Truffle)
Now here’s a great record! Oren Ambarchi is best known for his avant-garde improvisational guitar drone, popular with academic festivals and artistic institutions, but he’s always had this hilarious sense of humor that could topple the whole stuffy system, and I love him dearly for it. Check out any Menstruation Sisters record for a sonic spray of mace to the eyes, or this new 12″ EP of him wildly soloing over two outrageously rote pre-set rock tracks. “Milk A Cow With A Monkey Wrench” has Ambarchi unleashing his strings like a disturbed beehive over an unlicensed ZZ Top riff, just completely going at it while the guitar-pedal play-along track carries on unknowingly. Flip it over for “Park It Where The Sun Don’t Shine”, which sounds like a MIDI Soundgarden loop and features more of Ambarchi’s unfettered long-form noise-soloing. Stacte Karaoke is a triumph of both high- and low-brow, which is exactly where I want my life to exist at all times. I am honored that he has helped lead me there on countless occasions.
Bok Bok Your Charizmatic Self 2×12″ (Night Slugs)
The Night Slugs crew has served me well over the past few years, but I never heard Bok Bok until now – something about his annoying name (and his collaborations with the even more annoyingly-named “L-Vis 1990”) just kept me away, even though I guess names like “Jam City” and “Girl Unit” aren’t much better (although really, they are). Anyway, this double EP, while certainly serviceable to the modern barely-underground dance scene, doesn’t come close to the unique energy of Jam City or the slick savagery of Egyptrixx. Your Charizmatic Self opens with the obvious (and only) pop track here, “Melba’s Call”, featuring guest vocals from Kelela and basically waiting six months ahead of the radio-pop curve, the sort of thing you can expect to hear on Kanye’s next album. Very slick, and really good for what it is, but the rest of the EP follows in a less exciting, more reclusive instrumental fashion. Bok Bok leaves a lot of empty space in his tracks, as if he is muting everything but the basic framework of the rhythm, and while it’s a very 2014 sort of sound, it also gets kind of old unless someone really pushes it over the top. The music often sounds like someone took a hatchet to a pile of ’90s Too Short instrumentals, and while this sounds appealing to me as I type it, I worry that I’m more enthusiastic about the concept than Bok Bok’s actual music.
Broken English Club Jealous God 04 12″ & CD (Jealous God)
Jealous God is a cool new-ish label run by Regis and Silent Servant, issuing 12″ EPs that are accompanied by mix CDs. I missed the earlier ones (sadly my record budget is not infinite), but I’m glad I wrangled one of these Broken English Club EPs. It’s a pretty weird project – within these five tracks, they shift from experimental sound-effect weirdness that recalls This Heat and Volcano The Bear to driving EDM / cold-wave that would fit snugly between Cold Cave and Youth Code (though I have no idea if there’s any youth-crew hardcore pedigree associated with Broken English Club). There are tracks called “Birth Control” and “Casual Sex”, so you kinda get where the Broken English Club mindset is at – snugly between the sheets, with a UV light revealing all sorts of stains invisible in the daylight. The world is saturated with minimal-synth projects right now, but Broken English Club seem so self-assured and strange that they demand some level of authority in the scene, only one EP deep and already pretty captivating. Not sure how the mix CD ties into things, as it’s a nice flowing mix of early ’80s dark-wave / punk (Soft Cell, The Flesh Eaters, Killing Joke, Jah Wobble and Portion Control are all represented), although it is certainly a nice and personal touch to this 12″ release, even if they don’t have much to do with each other.
Chain & The Gang Minimum Rock N’ Roll LP (Radical Elite)
This is Chain & The Gang’s fourth album, which both surprises me and makes me feel old. I’d think it might make bandleader Ian Svenonius feel old too, except he is clearly feeling more alive and vibrant than ever on Minimum Rock N’ Roll. The title is good for a subtle chuckle, and there’s plenty more of his intelligent wordplay and bizarre witticism here, which is kind of amazing when you think at just how many damn songs he’s written. And I’ll cop to having not heard Chain & The Gang before (although my Nation Of Ulysses records still get pulled out at least a couple times a year), but they are the perfect backdrop for his outraged narrations, using the least amount of ingredients necessary to create a savory stew of funk, rock and proto-punk. Priests’ vocalist Katie Alice Greer sings on most of it too, adding a different emotional frequency to Svenonius’ trademarked yowl, and it just might be one of the most enjoyably understated rock records I hear this year.
DJ Punisher LACR003 12″ (L.A. Club Resource)
Nope, this DJ Punisher isn’t the drunk guy who comes up to the booth with a $5 bill requesting Drake songs all night, it’s the moniker of Delroy Edwards, an early L.I.E.S. adopter who I’ve been meaning to check out. I’ve really gotta make that a priority, as this DJ Punisher 12″ is absolutely killer, just the sort of sneering, blown-out techno / noise-fuckery I am constantly searching for. No track titles for any of the five (or is it four?) tracks here, so I’ll help DJ Punisher out – this first track should be called “Matrix Rave Scene Through Emptyset’s Rig (M Ax Noi Mach Remix)”, a truly sweltering, airless bass-blast that very well might cause a vanilla audience to raise their hands in the air, even as the Vatican Shadow fans stroke their hairless chins just outside the dance-floor. It devolves into some sadistic hardware torture, as DJ Punisher chokes the life out of his synths, not unlike Bloodyminded, or the last track on that first Miles EP – the only thing it needs is an angry white guy in a black t-shirt screaming bad poetry and you’ve got a fine power-electronics cut. The beatless sadism continues, at least until the unexpected final track, which is a cute little Atari-dub, prancing along as if to ignore the violence that preceded it. Really love this EP, and hope this is only the beginning of an illustrious DJ Punisher career.
Drunk Elk Oceanus Procellarum LP (Wormwood Grasshopper)
Don’t let that title scare you – Drunk Elk haven’t gotten all Latin on us, at least not quite yet, as this limited vinyl run of a 2013 cassette is as modest n’ moody as anything they’ve done before. If you’re unfamiliar, try to imagine Siltbreeze’s fetishes for Columbus, OH and New Zealand in the ’90s, but tear away any lo-fi noise or avant-wanderings – Drunk Elk are prepared to play at any local bar without disturbing the patrons. Some songs wander into the Desperate Bicycles school of working-class art-rock, but with minimal (or absolutely no) percussion, just a pointy bass-line and an open-handed guitar jangle as the singer sneers his prose without ever raising his voice past a muted yell. Drunk Elk frequently give off an air of what Mad Nanna would sound like if they ever approached the idea of formal songwriting, even at a basic level like this. And for as simple as it is, some of these delicate little tunes dig out real estate in my memory bank, like a cute little one-bedroom ranch next to so many high-rise condos filled with industrial techno. There are 150 copies of Oceanus Procellarum pressed, and I’d imagine they are all headed to good homes, at least eventually.
External Menace Coalition Blues LP & 7″ (Loud Punk)
Gotta admit, I wasn’t overly impressed with the generic look of this External Menace album. Then I threw it on, and by the fourth track I was wondering how in the hell no one ever told me about this band before! They were a UK punk band from 1982 through 1985, and it continues to amazes me how many hundreds of great UK ’82 groups there were. I’m completely new to these guys, but External Menace seem particularly special – they are just slightly more musically advanced than your average Chron Gen or Partisans, and on certain songs, they invoke the exact sonic template of Back With A Bang-era Skrewdriver. The resemblance to Ian Stuart’s frothy bark is uncanny at times, and there’s no “I only like the early stuff” guilt at hand to dampen the mood. The songs are simple, but the bassist will still throw in all sorts of melodic fills and the guitarist isn’t afraid to copy a Black Oak Arkansas solo every once in a while, among classic-sounding Oi-punk screamers like “Don’t Conform” and “Youth Of Today”. Really top notch stuff, to the point where I can easily overlook their thanks list containing “ALL OUR FACEBOOK FRIENDZ” and just wish it hadn’t taken me this long to get hip to External Menace.
Farang Farang 12″ (no label)
The neon art and DJ sleeve had me expecting some sort of 100% Silk-styled electronic music, but the only dancing you’ll do to Farang is pogoing onto your friend’s shoulders, side-to-side pit-slamming and the occasional stage-dive. They’ve got a pretty grindy, crusty pedigree (members of The Endless Blockade, School Jerks and Kremlin, or so I’m told), but this is whiplash, mathy hardcore-punk, cut from the same cloth as Double Negative and Brain F≠. Every song is structured differently from the last, and there is no shortage of notes (if you told me it was Mick Barr from Orthrelm on guitar and Matt Freeman from Rancid on bass, I might be convinced). Everyone’s just totally going at it, with more technical skill than I usually look for in my hardcore, but the intensity never lets up, so I’m cool with it. Not sure why they went with the one-sided 12″ format for this release, or the sleeve design, but maybe that’s just because I’m used to hardcore bands approaching their records with such severe uniformity these days that anything slightly strange is particularly pronounced. That’s good for Farang, because they aren’t “expanding” hardcore, they are just spinning it their own way.
Frau Frau LP (Dead Beat)
Apparently this Frau album is their 2013 tape pressed to vinyl, so I’m sorry to disappoint those already familiar that this is nothing new. I hadn’t heard that tape though, shame on me, but it makes the arrival of this LP pressing that much sweeter, as this London-based hardcore-punk outfit (with at least one Good Throb member, as is the case with all good London punk bands) is great! The songs are of the bash n’ smash variety, never really too fast, just sort of banging their way down the steps to your cellar door, with the feel of a “first band” for at least some of the members (or at least on their respective instruments). Vocalist Ash Holland frequently screams beyond the top of her lungs to the point that only dogs can hear, and as her vocals seem to have been recorded through a rusty sardine tin, they affect the music much in the way that a thick stream of lighter fluid affects a campfire, burning the hair off anyone seated too closely. This is highly non-commercial punk rock, simplistic and fired up, and I’m glad I am able to file it comfortably in my Expedit instead of on my sad little cassette shelf.
Further Reductions Woodwork LP (Cititrax)
Even though I’ve been doing it for a couple years now, it still feels foolish to pay over $20 for a new domestic LP, but in cases like this Further Reductions record, the continued enjoyment of its content makes up for the momentary financial loss. Further Reductions are a Brooklyn duo, and together they’ve created a very sensual form of dub techno, like a dirty Detroit club remodeled into an upscale Manhattan parfumerie. There are aesthetic similarities to labelmates Innergaze in the way the music sort of glides by in a VHS blur, like some sort of sexy cable-access mirage, and there are strong musical similarities to the depth-charge dub qualities of the Echospace label as well. At various times throughout Woodwork, I’ll be reminded of anything from some dollar-store calypso record to “Tubular Bells” or Donato Dozzy, all held together by a sauntering and unhurried 4/4 beat. The wordless, reverbed-into-the-abyss vocals usually make me suspect that the artist ran out of better ideas, seeing as how easy and generally not-bad this sort of vocal approach sounds with electronic music, but it actually adds to music of Further Reductions, rather than simply existing alongside. They definitely nail their own distinct mood, which is something dub-techno rarely strives to do, and it makes for a satisfying listen, so long as you’ve got a comfortable loveseat and mood lighting.
Kyle Hall Girl U So Strong / Take Me Away 12″ (Hyperdub)
I love pretty much all Kyle Hall records, but I feel like his work for the Hyperdub label has been particularly interesting, as he seems particularly free when working for them, unafraid to turn a banger on its side and give it a good smack. “Girl U So Strong” was featured as the second track on Hyperdub’s recent anniversary collection, and rightfully so – this cut is a great example of where Hyperdub has gone and where it might go. There are like four different sets of hi-hats, all misfiring all over each other as a beautiful synth blooms, enhanced with 8-bit nonsense, two stellar vocal samples on repeat and just a touch of G-funk groove. “Take Me Away” on the flip almost feels like an Actress remix of the a-side, as random tone-loops and laser beams shuffle across the screen, to the point where I can’t tell if I’m playing Atari 2600 or a prototype of Playstation 5. Hall wouldn’t just let the track float without a groove, though, and he somehow ties it all together as loosely as possible, just enough glue to keep “Take Me Away” in tact. Really wonderful stuff, and seeing as I’m still spinning Hall’s debut album on the regular, I’m ready for more whenever he is.
Hodge Amor Fati / Renegades 12″ (Dnuos Ytivil)
Bristol’s Livity Sound posse is pumping out EPs, mixes, remixes and collaborations quicker than my bank account allows me to keep up, so I end up just randomly grabbing EPs here and there. The majority of this stuff is all really good, so it works out fine, particularly with that Gorgon Sound 2×12″ from last year and this new Hodge EP on the backwards Livity Sound label (does the label name make sense now?). These two tracks are all geared up for contemporary club usage, but that doesn’t mean they make any concessions to the mainstream – it’s just that Hodge knows what it takes to send a group of bodies into motion. “Amor Fati” has a heavy sort of UK garage feel, like it’s amped up to withstand dubstep warfare but much too slick to ever get involved in that mess, and there’s this millisecond-long vocal sound that he sets on auto-fire, careening between the space between the kicks and the claps. “Renegades” feels like one of those great Shackleton EPs on Honest Jon’s, the way the beat refuses to adhere to standard timing and the keys dance around like a flame on a windy day. Top-notch production seals the deal – it feels like only the most crucial of frequencies are involved in these tracks, taking the simplest and most direct route to sonically uppercut your chin. A perfect addition to your “I gotta grab at least four records to save on international shipping” shopping cart routine.
Inutili / Wand split 7″ (Goodbye Boozy / Aagoo)
Yikes! This record stinks. Did Aagoo really release this, or did someone forge their name on here in order to discredit them? Inutili are the main culprit for the stench – they’re one of those bands that are still thrilled you can print your band name on panties, and their song is like the laziest, least thoughtful Pavement-ish clunker you’ve never wanted to hear. P U! Flip it over and you’ve got poor Wand, trapped by their disgusting neighbor and forced to offer up a track of their own that probably no one will ever willingly make it to hear, like having to have a gallery showing of your paintings in the flooded basement of a Kohl’s with eight hours advance notice. Anyway, Wand sound like a mix of King Tuff and Happy Birthday, splitting the difference between stadium-metal and syrupy pop-punk, complete with dead-ringer King Tuff vocals. It’s pretty decent, so I’ll try to remember the name “Wand” (although let’s face it, I’ve probably already forgotten it) the next time they come around. It might not be fair, but if they OK’d a split 7″ with Inutili, they are partially responsible for this travesty too, you know?
Low Life Dogging LP (Disinfect / R.I.P Society)
I loved Low Life’s debut EP, as it was a formidable blast of Riot City punk via early ’80s Californian hardcore delinquency, a refreshing combo that seems too obvious to be as rare as it is. I was excited when Dogging arrived at my house, even though I had to keep the pornographic cover out of sight – wouldn’t want a friend or relative to stop by and see this piece of casual filth laying around, you know? Anyway, it was apparently recorded haphazardly over a couple years ago, and none of it sounds like their first EP, that’s for sure – here, Low Life have moved toward moodier and more melodic realms, firmly fitting into the “goth-punk” genre that has so quickly filled up. The riffs are still pretty straight-forward, but all guitar effects are set to Joy Division / Echo & The Bunnymen levels, resulting in the perfect local band to open for Modern English on their Mesh & Lace tour. I suppose the grainy recording is still fairly punk, and some of the songs get revved up to Constant Mongrel speeds, but Low Life have moved on from the youthful aggression of punk rock into a proudly drugged-out disarray of post-punk goth. Interestingly, there’s a touching dedication to Brendon Annesley within the liner notes, all while the track “Speed Ball” seems to glorify hard drug use, but life is full of those inner conflicts, even low-life ones.
Lumpy And The Dumpers Gnats In The Pissa 7″ (Total Punk)
Part of the enduring beauty of punk is that you never really know where or how it’s going to evolve – ten years ago, would you have believed that one of the hottest underground punk bands of 2014 is a band called Lumpy And The Dumpers? Not even a band called “Homostupids” prepared us for that. Anyway, one great music video and memorable song later, they’ve got a Total Punk single, and it’s a wonderfully disgusting ripper, the sort of music you never, ever tell your mom that you made, even if she is cool. On a blind taste test, one could easily place “Gnats In The Pissa” alongside The Mad’s “I Hate Music” or Mentally Ill’s “Gacy’s Place” as hallmark horror-punk, thanks to its chugging little mutant riff and the vocalist’s over-the-top caterwauling. Same goes for “Ghoul Breath” on the flip, which reminds me of Gag in the way it takes a basic Bone Awl / Hoax riff and devolves it to a new level of indecency. Long may Lumpy and his fine Dumpers indiscriminately toss their slime!
Galcher Lustwerk Nu Day EP 12″ (Tsuba)
I can respect people that release music by their legal names, but I can’t understand it – why release records as John Roberts or Kyle Hall when you can come up with something like Galcher Lustwerk? Have fun and give yourself some cool-ass name like that! Anyway, this is a guy who certainly lives up to his French-pronounced moniker – Mr. Lustwerk is smooth as hell, utterly chill and wildly talented. In a world of Lance Stephensons, he’s LeBron James, you know? Anyway, this new EP is an excellent way to enter his world (in case you aren’t into hour-long MP3 mixes), showcasing his pristine, down-tempo house music. It opens with the shimmery and gorgeous groove duo of “Fate” and “Nu Day”, sounding like Omar S if he was sponsored by BMW instead of Scion, or a particularly focused and sample-free Theo Parrish. Flip it over for “216”, featuring Galcher’s laid-back rapping (and tweeting birds samples) over another sensuous, slow groove, like something Tin Man would play on his wedding anniversary. “Chillin In The Booth” wraps it up, and is descriptive not only of this track but the entire Nu Day, as this EP is so damn comfortable, like a leather couch that looks cool but is a thousand times more comfortable than you could’ve imagined. Some dance music will shock you into a frenzy, but Galcher Lustwerk is far too cool to ever break a sweat. Hope I don’t have to wait too long for more!
Manbeast Sore 7″ (Discontent / Vwyrd Wurd)
If you’re gonna call your band Manbeast, you better be raging, and this Lehigh Valley group clearly have not taken the moniker lightly, blazing through 14 songs of hardcore-grind. At times I’m reminded of a more metallic Crossed Out (the vocals are particularly Crossed Out-y), but more than anything I hear Forced Expression in these quick, explosive hardcore blasts. An occasional mosh part will break through the thrash, but it’s never around long enough for those big dolts with the karate moves to take over. Manbeast certainly don’t reinvent the genre in any of its categories (speed, originality, heaviness), but they are the sort of band any decent scene needs, one that reminds the kids in emo and pop-punk bands that there is a wiser path to follow. Gotta say though, they use the exact same photo for their a-side center sticker as the iconic Dead Kennedys Holiday In Cambodia art, and it doesn’t seem like a parody or intentional piss-take, so I have to assume it’s just kind of lazy. So long as Manbeast start finding original war atrocity photography to garnish their records, I’ll commit to singing their praise.
M.O.B. M.O.B. LP (R.I.P Society)
Not Mission Of Burma or the various other M.O.B.s that litter the halls of Discogs, this one is the work of one guy from Oily Boys and one from Whores, two of Australia’s uglier hardcore-punk groups. I guess even these folks have free time to spend alone in their bedrooms, and while you’d think they’d just want to quietly watch a movie, they’ve spent their time recording muddy electro-not-electro music, which is collected here. I’m reminded of the earliest San Fran art-punk synth stuff while listening to M.O.B., like that Live At Target comp or the earliest, patchiest Minimal Man records… these tracks are simplistic, claustrophobic and occasionally quite tense, sometimes accompanied by sneering vocals. I’d be tempted to start singing over some of these songs myself, in my best Gary Numan Ian Curtis humanoid voice, but then some other guy starts yowling, and I realize how much M.O.B. sounds like Plaster Hounds-era Chromatics, which is kinda cool. M.O.B. won’t blow your mind if you’ve heard records like it before, but I can always go for stuff like this – there’s something about lonely men and a corner full of unsanitized electronics that I find endlessly appealing.
Mordecai Neil’s Generator LP (Richie)
Mordecai are back with another Richie Records LP, transmitting from their distant home state of Montana (distant to pretty much everyone besides those who live there). Drop the needle anywhere on this one, and if you enjoy the thirty seconds that follow, you’ll like the whole thing, and if not, you won’t – this is a record that does one thing, and it does it over and over again. That one thing is mid-paced, congenial, shambolic, two-chord indie-rock, steadfast in both tempo and demeanor. After seeing them live, the record made more sense – these guys get drunker than The Wretched Ones or Nashville Pussy, but instead of trashing the place, they just stand there with rosy cheeks and half-awake smiles, rocking at their leisure and perfectly content no matter who is watching. The vocalist has some great lines here and there (the ones you can audibly decipher), which adds a nice touch of forethought to what seems to be an entirely casual affair. I guess their tour is over now, so hold your nose over the rim of a bottle of six-dollar tequila while spinning Neil’s Generator for a realistic Mordecai sensory experience.
Muura Untitled LP (Wormwood Grasshopper)
Wormwood Grasshopper is a great Tasmanian label dedicated to sounds no one else in their right mind would pay to press to vinyl, and I thank them for it. Even next to labelmates like Mad Nanna and Hammering The Cramps, Muura seems to supremely not care about anything, offering an album of dank, repetitive synth-drift and basement static. If I had to come up with a new genre tag for this album, it’d be “absent music” – sitting here listening to this untitled LP (they couldn’t even be bothered to do that!), it feels like none of this was meant to be heard by the ears of strangers, like somewhere down the hall someone’s DVD player is stuck on the “settings” screen while they stumble downstairs to check on their laundry. It makes The Caretaker seem like Andrew WK, the way Muura refuses to allow anything to unfold – it’s all one big cul-de-sac, and we’re all stuck in it. It’s funny, because I’ve felt deeply ripped-off by Hototogisu albums that sound almost exactly like this, just with guitars instead of a Casio, but I find this equally (perhaps even more so) pointless record to be deeply satisfying. Just one of those things, I guess.
Nearly Dead Nearly Dead LP (Geriatric)
Ugh, here’s a record I hope to never think of again – Nearly Dead’s debut LP. They are essentially a direct Brainbombs tribute band, as the insert’s “listen to Brainbombs” declaration confirms. If you’ve heard Brainbombs’ album Obey (and the fact that you are reading this now means you most likely have), you know exactly what Nearly Dead sounds like from a musical standpoint: hard-rock riffs set on a loop cycle, trumpet bellowing extended notes over top, zero drum fills, maniacal spoken vocals. Nearly Dead’s riffs aren’t as Stooges-based as Brainbombs, but I am already thinking harder about their music than they probably have. The singer does his best Don LaFontaine voice to recite lyrics about the misery of old people in hospitals, often from the perspective of the elderly, and it really drives home how foolish the Brainbombs would sound if their singer had an American (or I guess in this case, Canadian) accent. Songs about incontinence and colostomy bags are prevalent, and it just ends up being this really pointless, embarrassing tribute to a band who needs no tribute, just with different lyrics. Who is going to like this record?
Michael O. Face The Facts 7″ (Fruits & Flowers)
Michael Olivares is Michael O. for short, perhaps best known for his work singing for San Francisco’s darling indie-pop group The Mantles. Like many lead singers before him, he’s stepped out on his own, documenting three tidy little pop tracks on this limited 7″. “Face The Facts” is nice and breezy, like what Kurt Vile’s hair must smell like after napping in a meadow. It’s followed by “Fear Of Balance”, where Olivares’ vocals are mixed so loudly that I can almost feel his lips pressing up against the inside of my speakers. Unlike the two a-side cuts, “Speedy’s Coming” feels like a full band, complete with drums and keys and surely some sort of psychedelic spiritual advisor overseeing the recording process. The vocals could easily get all high-pitched, nerdy and cute, but Olivares maintains his cool the whole time, like he recorded his vocals while staring at a picture of Lou Reed, and if he did, that process has certainly worked here. It all makes for a nice insurance plan – if The Mantles kick the bucket, Michael O. is ready to die another day.
Obnox Louder Space LP (12XU)
For many of the bands to come out of that lo-fi punk/garage explosion a few years back, the boombox recording quality was more of a crutch than anything else… the sort of mask you can hide your lack of ideas behind. If there was ever an example of the opposite, though, it’s gotta be this Obnox LP, studio recorded and absolutely fantastic. For one thing, Lamont Thomas (sole proprietor of the Obnox name) has a fantastic voice, somewhere between Josh Homme and David Liebe Hart – just totally pitch-perfect and wacky and cool as hell. The songs on here are thick with heavy blues fuzz, and they stick to the ribs, not just because of Thomas’ killer vocals but because of the riffs, which manage to be both obvious and fresh. In the course of a few tracks, I’m reminded of Dinosaur Jr., Bad Brains, The White Stripes and Moodymann (there’s this one kinda-rap track that sounds like a classic Moodymann loop), which is a nice little diverse sampling of all the good that comes out of Louder Space. Let’s all buy this record to ensure that this isn’t the last time Obnox raids a proper studio!
Pagan Rituals Pagan Rituals 7″ (Hungry Eye / Mad At The World)
Surprised no one chose a cool name like Pagan Rituals for their band before, and with a cool old-style pocket-sleeve featuring Pettibon-ish artwork, I was all prepared to become a Pagan Rituals fan. Sadly, this excitement wore off when I heard their music. They don’t suck, but it’s just kinda generic slow-moving post-hardcore. I’m picking up random bits of Drive Like Jehu and Murder City Devils and that scene of driving, angular riff rock, crossed with the cadre of bad mid-’00s noise-rock groups like Pigeon Religion or Francis Harold & The Holograms. It’s not a very attractive mix, particularly as Pagan Rituals never get tight enough or creepy enough to really pull off either end of that spectrum. And get this – the record is a jumbled mess, as the a-side center sticker lists “Dark Places” but actually features “Pagan Rituals” and “Dark Places”, and the b-side sticker lists “Hallowed Ground” and “Pagan Rituals” but only features “Hallowed Ground”. This is what test pressings are for, people! Let this be proof that I actually pay attention to the records I get in, even ones that I don’t particularly care for. It’s one thing for your songs to not match up with my personal taste, but to completely mess up the track listing and record order is inexcusable. Vinyl records deserve better than that!
Ray Creature Ray Creature LP (Sister Cylinder)
It’s rare but nice when some random artist shows up with a fully-formed debut, hard to categorize and ready to take over the world, and that’s what Ray Creature has done with this self-titled album (pressed on appropriately rock-solid 180 gram vinyl). Ray Creature are a duo, and they pair a world-weary crooner with electro new-wave pop songs, with quite pleasant results. Imagine a non-spazzy John Maus, Daughn Gibson without the country flair, a less-sophisticated Matthew Dear or Nick Cave fronting Soft Cell and you’re pretty close to Ray Creature’s vibe. It’s not a combo you can half-ass, and Ray Creature really goes for it, with a carnival-barker swagger and busy, often explosive synth-pop backing him up. I haven’t spotted any specific hit just yet, no song that I’d consider “the one”, but all of Ray Creature is pretty great, particularly when you consider that this group resides in Bloomington, Indiana, far away from wherever the fans of this sort of music reside (Las Vegas? The South of France?). If they mix the vocals a little higher on the next album and go for broke on a couple pop anthems, you won’t just be hearing about Ray Creature from me, I can assure you!
Romans Romans 1 12″ (Global A)
Global A Records is owned and operated by Tin Man, and with only seven releases in the course of a decade, I tend to perk up when the label is thrust back into action. Romans is Tin Man’s collaboration with L.I.E.S. recording artist Gunnar Haslam, which sounds like a tasty pairing. Turns out it is, and it isn’t – Romans 1 sounds like a lonelier, less active version of Tin Man’s recent Acid Test offerings. Tin Man’s pristine new-age acid-synth is in full effect here, bubbling up to the surface of almost all of these tracks, with his trademark “sad romantic astronaut” vibe all over Romans. It’s quite lovely, that’s for sure, but as Tin Man has offered us practically hours of this type of material in the past couple years, I was hoping for some sort of unexpected diversion, particularly as he has proven himself capable with drone, acid-house, minimal techno, synth-wave, et al. But nope, it’s more neoprene-coated tech-house; mid-tempo, wistful and never too heavy, with just enough of a groove that you can thump your heel against the floor as you stare at your only photograph of your spouse, currently a million miles away and awaiting your safe return back on Earth.
Treehouse Interzone LP (Vacant Valley)
It cost over $23 to ship this LP from Australia to my home, and it makes me feel bad that Vacant Valley spent their hard-earned money to send me this, only for me to hear it and not dig it. I guess that’s the gamble we all take, though? Anyway, I was psyched to dig Treehouse, but it wasn’t meant to be. They play a ramshackle, noisy sort of punk-influenced indie-rock, like something Ecstatic Peace would’ve released in 1995 that only Bryon Coley ever got excited about. Maybe a touch of Kitchen’s Floor’s youthful hopelessness can be found here, as well as the songwriting style of Places We Slept, with vocals that seem to be more of an after-thought (although thanks to the lyric sheet, I was able to determine that some of the lyrics are kind of touching). This style of vaguely pop, vaguely artsy, non-commercial indie-rock was never really my bag, so I’m not the person to ask about Treehouse anyway – there’s probably someone at WFMU who is an encyclopedia of this stuff, so go find and quiz them if you want the truth about Treehouse.
Ma Turner ZOZ LP (Sophomore Lounge)
I’ve enjoyed the work of Michael “Ma” Turner through his work with Warmer Milks, and his follow-up group Cross were cool too, and now here he is, all alone, just a pile of electrical music equipment and a whole lot of free time. Apparently ZOZ was culled from a six-hour, twelve-cassette box set (yikes), and it’s times like this that I appreciate the fact that a thirty-minute LP is the standard album format, not a twelve-cassette box set. This is pretty cool, though – ZOZ opens with a repetitive acoustic hymnal that slowly morphs into a hazy murmur of itself, as if Turner applied Alan Lucier’s I Am Sitting In A Room approach to his avant-rock. Before the a-side is over, it cycles back to more acoustic guitar work, although I get the feeling that Turner is never far from floating away into outer space at any moment’s notice. I tend to appreciate the indecipherable low-volume nonsense tracks more than the tweaked singer-songwriter stuff (I’m still recovering from the early ’00s New Weird America CD-r avalanche), but the whole thing has a nice, brisk flow and Turner’s idiosyncrasies, of which there are plenty, are all given a fair turn. If anything, ZOZ reminds me how great the strange (but not as strange as this) Warmer Milks group have been, and how I need to throw on those records more often, which isn’t a bad result.
Unholy Two Talk About Hardcore LP (12XU)
The Unholy Two are one of the surviving noise-rock bands from the mid-’00s, and they remain faithful to their spastic, squealing approach with Talk About Hardcore. I was actually surprised at how unchanged and undeveloped The Unholy Two have remained through the past few years, which is both nice (mindless trendoids they are not) and disappointing (not a whole lot of this record has stuck with me). Two wailing guitars, which stumble through a simplistic one-string riff, fire off noisy bursts of static into the atmosphere, or both, as the drums follow a predetermined route (either slow-motion drudgery or fast-paced screamo-breakdown flailing). I’m reminded of one of those wild New Flesh live recordings, the least focused Puffy Areolas moments or a less-metallic Drunkdriver as I listen, all of whom I bet The Unholy Two have shared a stage with at some point. All in all, it’s an okay record – nothing particularly lousy or great about it, just another sonic sting of guitars, drums and tortured screams. I do wish they’d elaborate on the whole wrestling fascination, though – they’ve got Great Muta on the cover and a classic WWF roster on the back, complete with song titles like “Muta Scale” and “Survivor Series”, but without a lyric sheet, it all seems very face-value, like a band that is really into basketball using a picture of Michael Jordan for the cover and calling their songs “Bounce Pass” and “Slam Dunk”. Pro-wrestling deserves a substantive, nuanced noise-rock observation, and I continue to await that depth from The Unholy Two.
Vladislav Delay Ripatti 03 12″ (Ripatti)
Vladislav Delay (and the man behind the mask, Sasu Ripatti) is an endless source of entertainment for me, not just because all of his music is pretty great, but because each track is a new mystery, its own weird little essay just waiting to be dissected (or mindlessly enjoyed). Take this new EP on his Ripatti label, for instance – I was listening to that new DJ Rashad EP We On 1 right before I put this on, and it felt like this could’ve just been a continuation of DJ Rashad’s relentless footwork. It sounds like Ripatti is rewinding some studio tape, which of course becomes part of the rhythm, chopped like a kung-fu DJ Rashad, complete with garbled and pitch-shifted vocal nuggets to indicate the passage of time. Eventually the track catches its breath, and then ends on a dizzying flurry of hi-hat snips and rapid-fire percussion snaps. It would drive any normal person directly out of the room, but I’m sitting here inching closer to my stereo in hopes that I might unlock the secret as to why Vladislav Delay is so damn crazy. “#22” is on the flip (how many of these numbered tracks does he have sitting around?), and it also employs an incessant footwork momentum via high-powered Finnish electronic maximalism. Not as listener-friendly as the Heisenberg EP on Ripatti, but just as bloodshot and intense.
Vow Cypress / The Light 7″ (Our Voltage)
Here’s an eye-catching 7″ single for you – the inner sleeve is made of textured brown paper, and the vinyl is so neon green it’ll burn your retinas if you stare too long. Based on the Our Voltage name, I was ready for some keyboard-driven screamo group to come tussle my hair and spit in my face, but not so – Vow are a studious, almost proggy indie-rock group deep into analog keyboards and chiming guitars. The lyrics to “Cypress” are “based on writings by William Shakespeare, Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath”, which seems to mesh well with the bookworm vocals and banjo accompaniment. “The Light” is similar but has more of a singer-songwriter feel. It probably sounds like one of those extravagantly-named indie-rock festival headliners I’ve never actually listened to, like Florence And The Machine and Of Monsters And Men or The Hand And The Heart, or maybe it doesn’t! You can tell by the way I am flaunting my casual ignorance that Vow’s music isn’t really my bag, but they don’t suck – just not a whole lot in either of these two songs to get my motor running. But maybe if you have a younger cousin who spends his or her time inventing iPad apps to document organic gardening, they’d be all about Vow. So go tell them, via whatever new technology has replaced text messaging. Is it Kik?
The Wrong Man Keep Face 7″ (Swashbuckling Hobo)
What’s happening when Swashbuckling Hobo is releasing the cool Australian punk records? This EP by The Wrong Man might brazenly borrow from revered rock acts like The Stooges and The Urinals, but the end result is awfully enjoyable nonetheless. It sounds like the guitarist only has two strings, so he makes up for it by strumming them three times as much, just rifling through his simple riffs as some other guy does a pretty spot-on Iggy Pop impression, somewhere between his early solo material and the drunken mischief of Raw Power. The drummer is either only playing a snare drum or just had one microphone to record his material, and it adds to the rigid, stressed-out feel of these five tunes. The more I listen, the more I’m intrigued by The Wrong Man’s nervous riffing and drunken vocals, an unlikely emotional combination that works to their advantage. Is it too early to admit that I’ve fallen for The Wrong Man? Only time will tell.
Yi Crying LP (no label)
After two tasty self-released 7″ singles, Yi step up to the full-length format, in their own homemade way of course. From the hand-written and hand-painted covers and center stickers, it’s clear this labor-intensive design was done with care and love, and the music has that same warm (and weird) feeling. In listening to Crying, I’m reminded of the first couple Eat Skull albums, as both bands have a knack for traversing all sorts of underground punk-related sonics (New Zealand pop, crusty punk, UK post-punk, heavy metal, Rancid) while still retaining a strong identity of their own. This LP blows by fast, but on the first side alone I am treated with a magnificently intricate bass-line befitting of Don Caballero, a Slayer-styled metal riff and a raucous punk skank reminiscent of Filth. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, but Yi clearly put a lot of time and effort into these songs, picking and choosing exactly where each part goes, and when, and for how long, so none of Crying has me scratching my head in a bad way. It’s just as fun to try and figure out Yi as it is to simply let them do their thing, and I’ve been doing plenty of both as I keep flipping this one over and over.
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