Afterhours Lowlife LP (Not Not Fun)
The first Afterhours 12″ I heard was cool Skinemax-style night-electro, a fun listen if not particularly original or envigorating. This follow-up album, Lowlife, takes a much more varied approach, and while variety isn’t necessarily what I look for in dance-oriented electronic music, Afterhours really makes it work. Just check the first couple tracks – the glitchy radio-dial shuffle of “Spit At The Mirror” quickly shifts toward a lightweight, early Burial-style dubstep jig, and it’s followed by “Sixty-Forty”, which is this really beautiful and simplistic trip-hop loop that’s just waiting for a cloying British vocalist to turn it into the next “Bittersweet Symphony”. And then that’s rounded out by “Lovesick”, which is straightforward, bouncy house not dissimilar to Rick Wilhite or Moodymann. Nothing explicitly ties these tracks together, but they’re all interesting and sturdy enough that I’ve been playing Lowlife repeatedly, happy to hop from one style to the next along with Mr. Afterhours. I’d be curious to see which if any of these directions Afterhours more directly pursues in the future, but for now I’m cool to just bounce around all these different styles with him.
Autistic Behavior Shattered Cattle LP (SRA)
While the rest of the world was lining up before sunrise to get their hands on Cake box-sets, live Alice Cooper 2×12″s and Johnny Cash 5xCD set (with autographed shot glass), there was only one Record Store Day release I needed to obtain – the mythical, long-awaited Autistic Behavior LP. Autistic Behavior were the only other good hardcore band to come out of Philadelphia pre-1985 (I’m referring to YDI of course, and I’d love to be corrected if I’m wrong), and besides a couple tracks off the 1983 compilation Get Off My Back and a killer YouTube clip shot around that same time, no further proof of their existence could be located. Until now! Shattered Cattle was recorded in 1981 and 1982, and while it’s not the full-speed-ahead thrasher I was expecting, it might actually be better than that, as there was apparently more going on musically with Autistic Behavior than I would’ve guessed. Sure, the fast, first-wave hardcore-punk vibe is in full effect for many of these tracks (I’d cite RF7, Necros, The Freeze and Career Suicide as musical touchstones), but they’ve also got these moodier, stranger tracks that build all sorts of uneasy tension without reverting to standard-model dirge structures. On some of these artier tracks, Autistic Behavior almost sounds like The Crucifucks had they been an SST group, which fits in perfectly between the expected youthful hardcore blasts. My opinion might be tainted by years of anticipation and hometown pride, but Shattered Cattle is a fine document of first-wave hardcore-punk, its unfortunate and longstanding lack-of-existence finally resolved.
Body Betrayal Soft Cage 12″ (Our Voltage)
Our Voltage has established itself as a hardcore / punk label that showcases queer voices, so this Body Betrayal 12″ was a pretty nice fit. They’re a pretty basic Witching Hour / Ebullition-style screamo band, but with thoughtful, incensed lyrics about their bodies and themselves, not just long inside-joke song titles with a couple meaningless phrases screamed throughout (I’m looking at you, The Now). I’m honestly fine with either approach, so long as it’s done well, and while Body Betrayal won’t cause any seasoned screamo fans to do a backflip in delight, they’re no slouches either, offering up a palatable selection of frantic grind-beats and blurry guitar riffs. I’ve enjoyed my time listening to and thinking about Soft Cage, although I generally revert to my personal screamo classics (or the occasional superhumanly-great contemporary band) if I want to hear this style of music, which is increasingly less and less, I must admit. But hey, good for Body Betrayal putting out an attractive one-sided 12″ with a screened image of their raging selves on the b-side, right?
Brain F≠Empty Set LP (Grave Mistake)
Feels like a new Joint D≠album just rolled through, so their siblings Brain F≠aren’t far behind, in case you needed more inequality-signed hardcore. In the past, I’ve found both of these groups to be pretty solid-yet-unmemorable, and I’m not sure if I’ve just been playing Empty Set more than previous records (and I loved that last Joint D≠a whole bunch too), but this one is more distinct and cooler than the rest. Not that much has changed: they’re still a fast-paced, driving punk band with equal parts garage and hardcore influence, with one vocalist who basically doesn’t stop talking and another who gruffly reinforces certain words. It works well, and I like the main singer’s matter-of-fact speaking tone, which sounds like it came off a Sin 34 record or some other snotty teenage band stolen from the pages of We Got Power. At times, I’m also reminded of White Lung, although Brain F≠avoid the monotonous homogeny that comes with any five or six White Lung songs played in succession. Sure, deep down I wish this was a split LP with British avant-industrial noise-heads Emptyset, but there’s still time for a remix collaboration, right?
Burnt Skull Sewer Birth LP (12XU)
If there wasn’t already a Wolf Eyes side-project by the name of Burnt Skull (or one with an album titled Sewer Birth), it’s only fair that this Texas-based duo gets first dibs, as their menacing industrial noise-rock warrants it. Pretty heavy-duty stuff here, deeply indebted toward Filth-era Swans, but what good metal-tinged industrial guitar music isn’t? Each song offers one simple idea, beaten repeatedly into the ground until a gas line is hit, with black-metal vocals that sound more like the shrieks of a volcanic pit than a human throat. Sometimes it’s a dark-ambient pollution cloud, other times they rock like Hammerhead, but these tracks always fit within the Burnt Skull realm. In true Swans fashion, the vocalist(s) rhyme phrases like “of his mind” and “sodomize” with relative ease, which I probably shouldn’t have read (there’s nothing but bleak, violent death in the prose they’re spewing). Perhaps the most startling thing was that the promo photo revealed Burnt Skull as two neatly-dressed young men, one of whom bares shocking resemblance to the cheese-counter guy at my Whole Foods. It’s startling to think that someone who can differentiate seven different Gruyères with his tongue could create music this miserably acerbic, but that’s what makes the world interesting.
Casanovas In Heat Belvidere / Destiny St. 7″ (Katorga Works)
Buncha dudes hanging out playing pinball, probably drinking shoplifted Cokes, and one dude refusing to take his sunglasses off indoors, what’s not to like? I wasn’t sure what to expect musically (Kid Dynamite-style pop-punk? The Explosion-esque street-punk? Assück worship?), but I was pleasantly surprised – Casanovas In Heat aren’t just another genre plug-in, they’re an app all their own. Both “Belvidere” and “Destiny St.” remind me of the early ’90s pop-punk that was played by older folks (read: college age) who were into Hüsker Dü and Dinosaur Jr. and other more ‘mature’ influences, bands like Weston, Sleepasaurus and Hellbender and anything else on the poppier end of the Gern Blandsten catalog. So they’ve got that going on with a touch of mid-’80s moody new-wave guitar-rock too, like an obscure Mission Of Burma clone from 1986 who never quite got their due, or some dollar-bin Homestead Records band the record clerk guy swears by. The more I listen to this single, the more I love it, and I’m currently at the point where I kinda wish I was a member of the band – not only do they all hang out at the arcade together, they come across all emotional and complex but they still get to wear leather jackets and drink beer while goofing off, because that’s part of their vibe too. There’s no way I’ll learn the drums in time, but maybe I could pick up the bass parts?
Dark Blue Subterranean Man / Skinhead Wedding In Canberra 7″ (Katorga Works)
Dark Blue is John Sharkey’s new band, who you might recall as the guy who very seriously played dour synth-pop, very sarcastically played noise-punk, filled in for Nine Shocks Terror when necessary and beat up your friend outside Hollertronix in 2002. Now he’s an overbearing sports-dad, so naturally the next logical step is a plodding New Romantic Oi-influenced rock trio. Duh! The other two Dark Blue guys played with him in Puerto Rico Flowers as well, and are two of the most sincerely nice people I get to consider my friends, so while I can do my best to objectively describe Dark Blue to you, I’m already quite partial to them. Thankfully, they are cool, and pretty damn weird – it’s as if The Stranglers shaved their heads in 1985 on a dare and ended up writing these strange pop misses while waiting to grow it all back. “Subterranean Man” is a catchy pub-rock infused slow-dance, like Puerto Rico Flowers selling their synth to buy the first Hard Skin album, and “Skinhead Wedding In Canberra” is even more jovial, with its main riff lifted from Cockney Rejects’ “Flares & Slippers” and turned into something our retirement-age parents might enjoy. It’s as strange as it sounds, and while the melodies might be a little too public-domain-pop for some, I appreciate that Dark Blue are writing music with no visible audience to instantly gather around and support it. This is clearly a “what if…” experiment by three talented musicians and I look forward to watching it develop!
DJ Richard Nailed To The Floor 12″ (White Material)
L.I.E.S. may have busted down the doors for ex-hardcore kids to openly locate their dancefloor footing, but the White Material gang is quickly coming to prominence with only a handful of records and mixes to their credit. With Galcher Lustwerk batting clean-up and the cheekily-named “DJ Richard” on board, I can see why White Material is becoming the hot new “sold out, buy it on Discogs for four times the price” dance label. This 12″ certainly rules – these tracks have the headstrong, straight-forward banging style of Levon Vincent but are speckled with the quirks of the Hessle Audio stable. It’s a great combination, the sort of streetwise, mid-fi techno bounce with an odd vocal call-and-response or smashed bottle sound-effect livening up the mood, and there’s no lingering sense of “this guy used to be in a noise band last year” that sometimes dampens my enthusiasm for Brooklyn-based techno. There are four tracks here, not a dud in the bunch, and I’m hoping DJ Richard becomes familiar enough with me and my life that we drop the formalities and I can just start calling him Dick.
Eaters Eaters LP (Dull Tools)
Nothing useless about these Eaters, that’s for sure – here’s a band I knew nothing about that only needed one start-to-finish album spin to render me completely charmed. I have no idea if this is a band or a solo project or what (only an additional vocalist is credited on the sleeve, no actual band members), but it feels like a band to me, as this album come fully formed and ready to roll. They’re a hard group to describe, but allow me to try – Eaters frequently remind me of Trans Am’s Future World in the way they mix driving kraut-rock templates with pristine new-age synths, and the tracks on Eaters range from spiritual-ambient synth-drift to ’70s chase-scene rock, like something the Beastie Boys would’ve sampled in the early ’90s. I’m reminded of Gary Numan one moment, Klaus Schulze the next, and I keep thinking of Howard Hello, that oddball Tarentel side-project, who were also experts at letting these delicate little arpeggios spiral out with little or no vocal accompaniment. And then there’s the one track that reminds me of that killer Ghost Exits 12″ that came and went in the wake of The Rapture’s peak. Eaters invokes all of these random references, but it doesn’t submit to them – I’m sure anyone else with an ear for music would find a dozen other similarities that have passed me by, which is a nice way to be. Get into their groove, why don’t you?
Feral Future Haematic LP (Western Medical)
Lots of bloodstains on the cover of Haematic, and it’s not just a genre trapping here – it often feels like these songs slashed up Feral Future as they were delivered. They’re an Austin-based punk band, and they move around in the genre a bit, from simplistic, noisy jams to semi-tuneful introspection and fiery garage rock. I like them best when they’re in between anthemic garage rock (“XOKO” is the clear hit) and the bizarre noise that follows “Funeral”, as if they just left the tape running and the listener becomes an unsuspecting voyeur into their recording session. The singer has a pretty great voice when she feels like singing, reminding me a bit of Icon Gallery in that respect, although there’s no trace of metal in the music – this stuff seems like it’s borne of Hot Snakes, Bikini Kill and Murder City Devils, not Iron Maiden (although that would be cool too). Nicely done all around, with an intensity that many bands can never muster through a studio recording. Feral Future have rage to spare, so remind me to stay on their good side, okay?
Gluebag Confused LP (Framework)
There’s a nice level of thought and care that goes into every Framework release I’ve seen – from the quality of the vinyl to the layout / inner-sleeve / polybag, I get the impression that this is a label that’s proud of what they do. It adds a nice layer of respectability to the raging hardcore-punk they’ve released, and it’s evident in this Gluebag LP too, but after listening to Confused a few times, I guess I’m feeling a little confused myself. That’s because it strikes me as a pretty mediocre record, musically speaking – Gluebag play a fairly rote version of energetic (yet mid-tempo) garage-rock. I’m reminded of the first couple Black Lips records, mid-’80s Redd Kross and a just a touch of Nirvana’s Bleach, and while there is absolutely nothing wrong with that sort of musical cocktail, Gluebag doesn’t put their own stamp on it, or really do anything special with it. The lo-fi recording doesn’t really help or hurt them (the rawness is appropriate, but the drummer must be bummed you can only hear his snare drum), and I don’t know, I just don’t get why Framework invested their time and effort in this one. Save those resealable poly-bags and stickers for something as exciting as Brain Killer, you know?
Goosebumps Scared To See A Doctor 7″ (Katorga Works)
Ah, so it’s a modern punk group with references to Fang and Flipper on the press release, and they go with the theme of distrusting and avoiding medical professionals for the title – it’s such a great concept, why didn’t I think of that? Wait a minute… anyway, the first Goosebumps 7″ was filled with sloppy hardcore thrash and must’ve been produced for free (the recording stunk). It was okay, but the record itself was certainly overshadowed by the “look at how crazy I am” live set I witnessed. Apparently they’ve kept at it, though, and Scared To See A Doctor is a strong improvement, even if the little kids with boners and hypodermic needles on the cover shows that Goosebumps are still desperate for any attention they can get. But let’s talk about the music – Goosebumps have moved toward a rowdy mid-paced hardcore-punk thing, not unlike Slices or Condominium, but with slight Toxic State leanings, like you can tell these guys pal around with Dawn Of Humans and prefer their art in the form of monsters-with-dicks drawings and bodily harm. The recording here is a huge step in the right direction too, with a good bit of low end holding down the chunky static of the vocals and guitar. Pretty good overall, although if you’re cynical enough that you find the ironic Looney Tunes and pissing Calvin parodies to be bothersome, you may need to break a light-bulb over your head and then jump backwards into the pit (just like any true Goosebumps fan) in order to truly get it.
Heroin In Tahiti Peplum 7″ (Yerevan Tapes)
Further proving that all the good band names are already taken, here’s Heroin In Tahiti! Head-scratching moniker aside, they’re pretty cool, carving out their own little corner of the dark post-industrial goth realm that so many underground artists are inhabiting these days. I like the way they combine computer- or hardware-based loops with live guitar (or so it would appear), as these melodic, composed tracks kick up a mysterious dust as they ride past. For a comparative description, I’d say something like Eyeless In Gaza remixed by Silent Servant under the watchful eyes of Ennio Morricone while Raime slowly arrive on horseback, even if in reality it’s closer to some limited Posh Isolation side-project-group cassette I haven’t heard yet. The fact that it was recorded in Rome makes it even more appealing and exotic to an American like me, who can only presume small boys were chasing chickens down ancient alleys and black market poker games were played in unventilated basements while Heroin In Tahiti set up their equipment in a tiny apartment above. Even if that’s not even remotely the case, just let a guy dream, okay?
Hysterics Can’t I Live? 7″ (M’lady’s)
For all the many varieties of great hardcore drumbeats that exist (from blast-beats to d-beats and everything in between), there’s something about the 1-2 1-2 oom-pah beat of the first four Dischord singles that is almost godlike. You can pogo, slam, and mosh to it, and if your pit skills are advanced, you can skank to it. Hysterics are one of America’s great current-day hardcore groups, and they use this beat to proper effect over and over again on Can’t I Live?, just one after another until you’re starting these six tracks over again. And while they sound like the respective demos of SOA and Youth Brigade, they’re no historical re-enactment – Hysterics are ranting and screaming about the actual problems they face in life, and they’ll toss in a freaky guitar riff or hard-style breakdown as if it’s the only way to do it. And for all the dudes wandering around out there with the Black Flag logo tattooed on a visible body part, I’d love to see one of them write something as bars-worthy as “Please Sir”, a future hardcore mix-tape necessity. Outstanding!
The Insults Population Zero 7″ (Last Laugh)
There have probably been a hundred different punk bands to call themselves The Insults, but this is the one that’ll cost you – at least until Last Laugh stepped in with this affordable and trim reissue. I am honestly running out of things to say about these Last Laugh punk reissues – they are all quite true to the original, in regard to artwork and sound, and they’re all good at worst and fantastic at best. There’s a reason a single like Population Zero is wildly collectible, and scarcity is only part of the equation… a song like “Population Zero” is wonderfully uninhibited punk rock fun, the sort of silly and zonked-out tune that just transports us all back to 1979 when people still discussed The Ramones in hushed tones and punk was a fresh concept. Same goes for “Zombie Lover”, another blip of punchy drums, marble-mouth vocals and single-stringed guitars that get rowdy in spite of the odds stacked against The Insults. It’s all here in this 7″, along with further proof that Last Laugh’s record collection is mightier than the rest of us.
La Peste Better Off Dead 7″ (Wharf Cat)
My initial thought upon opening the cardboard mailer and gazing up the classic red “La Peste” logo on a black background was… “huh?” La Peste’s punk-rock classic was released in 1978, compiled on LP by Matador in 1996, booted in 2001, reissued in 2006, and compiled in both CD and LP format in 2006 (with different track listings, I believe). Clearly, the world can’t be very short on access to these songs in physical format, and while I know every word to “Better Off Dead” by heart (even the sketchy ones), I guess I don’t fully understand why I’m holding it here in my hands again? That said, Wharf Cat clearly spared no expense – the cover is tip-on thick (in keeping with the original), and it comes with a band photo as well as a nicely-designed insert. So, those who aren’t already hip to La Peste might stumble upon it again, but still I ask, why? I would’ve preferred a La Peste coffee-table book with old pictures and an oral history, a live La Peste DVD or even just a quality La Peste Instagram account, anything besides another reissue of the same thing. On one hand, it’s great to know the La Peste love isn’t dwindling, but on the other hand, it’s records like this and that recent 5,000 copy repressing of Die Kreuzen’s Cows And Beer that makes me wish record labels and record consumers both put a little more time worrying about the present than re-packaging the past.
Microwaves Regurgitant Phenomena LP (New Atlantis)
The early ’00s was Microwaves’ heyday, and I’ll be damned if they aren’t still stuck there. This screened-jacket LP comes with a CD-r of the album instead of a download card, for crying out loud! Is there a more early ’00s move than that? Anyway, I’ve always been a Microwaves fan, and there’s nothing to change my mind here: more giant gooey swabs of synthesized bass, off-kilter time changes, long plodding grooves, open-ended and obnoxious improvisation, unexpected death-metal riffing, Skin Graft-style noise-rock vibes and a general sour taste that permeates the whole thing, as if every riff and beat were dipped in the lip-puckering sugar-grime left over in an empty Sour Patch Kids bag. If anything, they continue to get more metallic and heavier here, like they could almost fit onto a Southern Lord showcase if they were willing to grow their hair out and they promised not to make fun of the other bands while hanging backstage. And yet there’s a looseness to the way Microwaves play these songs, I don’t want to say sloppiness, that has the feel of a band that’s more likely to open for Arab On Radar than Harvey Milk. If you’re into the darker side of early ’00s noisy math-rock, you probably have been listening to Microwaves dutifully for years now, but if by some chance you haven’t, I can’t think of a good reason why you shouldn’t start now.
Night Birds Born To Die In Suburbia LP (Grave Mistake)
On a recent long car ride, I decided to revisit a staple of my early teenage years, the first Punk-O-Rama compilation. And you know what, it still pretty much holds up! It came out before the Epi-Fat sound was completely locked into place, back when you could throw Pennywise between Gas Huffer and The Offspring and the vibe wasn’t ruined. I say this because I’ll be damned if this new Night Birds album isn’t giving me some strong Punk-O-Rama vibes… I realize that it’s a bit of a sonic stretch, but also, not really? Night Birds are the depressed teenage angst of Agent Orange and Adolescents with the physical chops and glossy-sheen of NOFX circa Punk In Drublic, and I mean that positively. The men of Night Birds are probably in their late 20s / early 30s by now, which makes Born To Die In Suburbia slightly Peter Pan-ish in a Blink 182 way, as this feels like music that is directly indebted to being 18 years-old, hating your parents and not having enough money to replace the rusty bearings on your only skateboard. Night Birds are certainly experts at this sort of thing, super-fast melodic punk with surfy leads and air-tight drumming, and it’s been fun to listen to, even if I usually reach for an older classic when I want this sort of sound. Glad someone is carrying the torch for suburban teenage blues, even if it’s dudes my age doing it!
Ninos Du Brasil Novos Mistérios LP (Hospital Productions)
Now that Hospital’s distribution has moved from a moldy cardboard box in the back of a basement noise gig to the regal conglomerates of Boomkat and Forced Exposure, there has been a surge in more traditional vinyl-album releases. I guess why not, and it’s been cool to see the various friends and acquaintances Hospital has collaborated with represented in this format, such as the strange birds known as Ninos Du Brasil. They’re responsible for this fairly straight-up dance release, or perhaps more accurately, there is no noise here – Ninos Du Brasil are an electronic dance act at their core. And they’re interesting, at least – the music consistently calls to mind the alien percussion of Shackleton, the rapid-fire bells and congas of Cut Hands, and the South American minimal techno of Luciano and Villalobos (particularly when either of those two mix soccer chants onto rigid, glitchy beats). A track like “Sepultura” is essentially just tribal drums blasted at full intensity, highly reminiscent of the aforementioned artists but also cool enough that the similarities don’t really matter all that much. Novos Mistérios ain’t no industrial techno, that’s for sure, and is more in line with what I envisioned a project named Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement to sound like before I actually heard it. Just understand that if your family is eating Szechuan take-out while you’re playing Ninos Du Brasil, a chopstick-on-table jam session cannot be avoided.
No Babies Yo No So Como Tú 7″ (Gilgongo / Upset The Rhythm)
I always thought of Gilgongo as a regional Troubleman Unlimited Jr. sort of label, as far as their general aesthetic and musical taste, and it’s pleasantly surprising to see that they basically haven’t changed at all through their tenure. No Babies are prime Troubleman no-wave, that’s for sure – I’m reminded of Die Monitor Bats, Sleetmute Nightmute and maybe a little Fat Worm Of Error as soon as I let this EP rip. A bleating saxophone (or actually, two of them), blast beats, noise guitar, bratty vocals, this is the sound of the underground circa 2002, and it’s kinda cool to see that No Babies are keeping that flame alive. That said, they don’t seem to really add anything to the equation, and we aren’t quite far enough out where a nostalgic return makes much sense, so No Babies are more like a band I’m happy to know exists but don’t really need to frequently listen to. Hope they are disrupting generic hardcore shows and freaking some people out, but it mostly just makes me drift back to a time when PayPal was a bold new wilderness and Bottlenekk was sold out of anything you’d actually want.
Old Mate I Think Of You / Throwin’ Down 7″ (Major Crimes)
Great cover shot of a scruffly schoolkid shaving one of the Kraftwerk showroom dummies’ throats, and that sort of playful seriousness fits these two songs nicely. “I Think Of You” is like an easy-listening version of King Dude, bellowing vocals treading over a sad little soft-rocker, with either melodica or synthesized saxophone getting lively while the vocals are absent. Not too far from the M*A*S*H theme, which I usually don’t mind. “Throwin’ Down” doesn’t seem to involve fisticuffs, so much as tossing a bouquet of roses on your lover’s unmarked grave out in the desert. And then a cottontail rabbit pokes its head out of a cactus and starts singing this song at you, as if Quentin Tarrantino directed an Eddy Current song. I enjoyed this single, not just because there isn’t some obvious sub-genre that Old Mate fit into, but because they manage to inject a playful wit in two ostensibly morbidly sad songs. All this, and I didn’t even mention the flute solo…
Omar S Romancing The Stone 2×12″ (FXHE)
For a while there, I was dutifully buying up every new Omar S 12″ that dropped, and while I never stopped loving him, I kinda felt like I owned enough, you know? I don’t think anyone needs twenty different records by the same artist – don’t you feel kind of bad when your one friend shows you his full box of Sex Pistols import singles, like you just feel sorry for them? Anyway, I knew I wasn’t gonna stay away from Mr. S forever, and this new double 12″ is a pretty nice way to step back into his world. Four tracks here, and they’re all pretty straightforward by Omar S standards, with builds and progressions that feel far more thought-out than many Omar S cuts; “Leave” in particular feels like it was crafted over the course of days or weeks, not hours. My favorite is probably “Frogs” though, if not just for the title, but because the dollar-store guitar riff and funky bass are a perfect match, which Omar S unrelentingly shapes like clay on his wheel before melting it with acid. There are probably still like five other Omar S releases I’d recommend before this one, but that’s just because this guy is a legendary American hero with hours of classic material under his belt – if you ever stumble upon Romancing The Stone in a record shop and leave without it, you better have an outstanding excuse.
Ono Diegesis LP (Moniker)
Ono existed in the early ’80s, released a wild Thermidor album and disappeared for like twenty years, and now they’re back with their second “comeback” album, just as tweaked and grotesque as ever. I’m sure at least some members of this group have children in high school or college, and that certainly makes the idea of this band cooler and crazier (there’s no mellowing with old age here) – probably more than half of all the weird solo-noise artists from the early ’00s probably all have retired to office cubicles by now, whereas Ono would never accept such a fate. On Diegesis, you get syrupy funk, scatterbrained musings, shuffled grooves and a whole lot of nonsense. It’s almost as if you’re crammed on an overnight flight between George Clinton and James Chance, and their sleep apnea is distracting the Pixar film you’re trying to watch. I could also see Ono being a great gateway drug to weirder, cooler stuff for your teenage cousin who plays in marching band and loves Frank Zappa, the sort of thing that’ll get them away from re-packaged Captain Beefheart Record Store Day editions and towards The Godz albums and live Doo-Dooettes bootlegs. I’m not even sure I really dig Diegesis or want to listen to it ever again, but it’s really damn great that this all exists, you know? It’s just good for the world.
Pang Young Professionals 7″ (Grazer)
It’s been a few years now that I’ve been unable to read or hear the title “Young Professionals” without instantly humming Black Time’s song of the same name in my head, but that seems to have changed upon the arrival of this fantastic new Pang EP. They’re a San Fran band (or so I believe), and I guess they are in the process of breaking up or already have, which is a true travesty as this is gonna be one of my top singles of the year, no doubt. Pang are a power-poppy punk group, and they just have it completely in order – taut, Wire-y rhythms, the giddy bounce of Girls At Our Best, the slick pop of Tours, it’s all here in these five songs. I can’t think of the last melodic, poppy punk (but not pop-punk) group to do a five song EP, let alone one where each song is absolutely killer! It has the feel of some Rough Trade-distributed single in 1981 from a group that either immediately broke up or went on to large-scale commercial success… if they cleaned up “So It Goes” a little, it could be the new iPod commercial song, but for now it sounds like it came off the Messthetics CD-r that changed your life. Can’t rave enough about this one!
Powell Club Music 12″ (Diagonal)
Often I’ll hear a record I really like, and comment in the review that I’ve gotta go find their other records. Sometimes I do, sometimes I forget, but in the case of Powell, I was hardly halfway through this three-track Powell EP before I dialed up the internet to secure the rest of his modest discography. Seriously, I was blown away! This guy runs the Diagonal label, who has put out some cool and perplexing electronic music (namely Streetwalker and Russell Haswell), but it’s his own project that takes the cake. It’s really what I’ve been looking for – something that touches upon Hessle Audio-style adventurous dubstep, Perlon-quality playful house, Emptyset-level noise explosions and a great big pile of whatever else on top. If someone previously invented no-wave techno, someone please tell me, because I think Powell is first to do it – the beats are 4/4, but the tracks operate in a non-linear fashion, free to chase the tail of some crazy synth bleat or crumble into a noisy pile of rubble, with guitars and saxophones misfiring all over the last track (presumably courtesy of the track’s guest, the aforementioned Russell Haswell). Club Music strongly reminds me of that great Von Südenfed album, particularly when Powell sneaks in those loutish vocal samples, but Powell tweaks the Von Südenfed formula with the knowledge of a dance-floor dictator, resulting in this gloriously strange music that I can’t help but be overly enthusiastic about. Highest possible recommendation from the mountain on high A+ would do business with again!
Predator The Complete Earth LP (Scavenger Of Death / State Laughter)
Scavenger Of Death has been killing it lately, or maybe it’s more that Southeast hardcore is alive and well? I feel like I should hear a little more chatter about bands like Manic and the fantastic Rapturous Grief, and now Predator too, another new-to-me hardcore punk band that totally rips. Maybe there’s just nothing interesting about these bands besides their top-notch hardcore abilities? Whatever, who cares, let’s just sit and enjoy The Complete Earth, one of the more classic punk sounding records to come out on Scavenger Of Death. I’m reminded of Red Cross (and Clorox Girls too, naturally), The Love Triangle, Zero Boys and Le Shok, but any sort of looseness is reigned in, which gives the songs a level of seriousness that contrasts nicely with the vibe of a band writing songs like “Skate Slime” and “Peter Popoff”. Very We Got Power-ish, like 1982 or something, where all sorts of foreign influences like surf and goth were seeping into hardcore-punk’s bloodstream even though the music remained fiercely ‘core. That said, there’s something about Predator’s style that avoids easy classification, which might speak to their skills as punk songwriters. I’ve already thought too hard about a record this simply good, so let’s blast The Complete Earth during a food fight at Wendy’s and worry about the consequences later.
Red Red Krovvy Red Red Krovvy 7″ (R.I.P Society)
Ah swell, here’s some slop-tastic punk rock from the well-respected R.I.P Society label. I’ve been in the mood for this, and Red Red Krovvy are pretty cool! Nothing smart about it, that’s for sure – these songs are played as fast as the drummer can handle (which isn’t very), with clanging guitars, constant hi-hat fuzz and impolite vocals. I’m reminded of The Kill-A-Watts, were they completely punk and not remotely garage-oriented, the earliest FYP recordings (or in particular, the FYP tracks off Pigs Suck where the vocals are all chipmunky), or for a more recent comparison, the angry amateurism of Bad Daddies. Red Red Krovvy are an Australian group, but I can’t help but picture them playing a wild drunken East Bay party circa 1996 after getting banned from Gilman for vandalizing the bathroom. If I could transport myself to a Rice show in that era, I’d see if I couldn’t squeeze Red Red Krovvy into the time machine with me – we’d figure out who they’d borrow gear from once we got to the gig.
Secret Boyfriend This Is Always Where You’ve Lived LP (Blackest Ever Black)
Initially I figured that Blackest Ever Black was just going to put out records as bleak and hopeless as Raime for all of its existence, but that notion was quickly put to bed in light of the varied output that followed. Like Secret Boyfriend, for instance – this isn’t what I think of when I think Blackest Ever Black… Bluest Ever Blue, maybe, as this is some serious sad-sap music. Ryan Martin (of the Hot Releases label) has released a handful of meek little tapes under the Secret Boyfriend moniker since like 2008, which must’ve been the first year all his friends forgot his birthday – this music reeks of a guy who has given up on Friday nights and bike rides, content to sit in his tiny bedroom and piece together these meager songs that he never really expected anyone to hear. He might stumble across a minor-key melody on his Casio, or pick up the guitar and casually shift between Jandek and Elliot Smith impersonations, depending on his mood at the time. This Is Always Where You’ve Lived is a diverse-yet-tidy collection of the Secret Boyfriend sound, and if you’ve ever just wanted to feel down on yourself, Secret Boyfriend makes the proposition sound incredibly alluring. Sometimes there’s no good reason to get out of bed, and Secret Boyfriend is happy to lay there with you, at least until your laptop’s battery dies.
Section Urbane The Final Program 7″ (540)
Some may have doubted them, but 540 continue to reissue the entirety of the Savage/Shake vinyl catalog, a noble effort if there ever was one in the world of obscure punk reissues. This one even matches the original’s purple dust sleeve and one-sided, unfolded cover, and it’s nearly authentic enough to transport me to 1983 Australia, where no one in hell gave two craps about Section Urbane (and their earlier incarnation as Just Urbain). Anyway, this Section Urbane single is one of my favorite Savage/Shakes, as the music just kinda plods around like Mad Virgins (or for an updated reference, The Sleaze) and the singer has this amazing disaffected vocal style, as if he’s under pressure to actually sing, but also not allowed to sing at a volume that might bother the neighbors upstairs. These barely count as riffs, but the singer turns it all into a fevered dish of punk indifference… it’s really quite magical! I’m no flag-waver for the punk single reissue market, but man, if you’re looking for a cool piece of playable punk history, allow me to steer you toward this one.
Sex Scheme Sex Scheme 7″ (Puppet Combo)
If you’re like me at all, you were saddened but unsurprised by the news that Mountain Cult called it quits. How could any band that distraught and unstable stick around for longer than a year anyway? Well, the guitarist / Cult leader started this new band, Sex Scheme, and it’s an entirely awful mess of its own, much to my delight. Probably the most dramatic difference from Mountain Cult is that the drummer and bassist can play their instruments, but this guitarist singer guy… man. He is completely on his own trip, like if you got the Milk Music singer completely black-out wasted (I’m talking three Phrosties deep) and shoved a microphone inside his mouth as he endlessly babbles, fighting with his roommates and trying to hail a cab. He is almost completely unintelligible, and not because the music is noisy or overpowering, but because he seems unable to string together more than a couple of prepositional phrases with his lips and tongue. And all this while he plucks at his strings, spending more time getting random scrapes and Sonic Youth twang out of it than actual notes. The other two dudes plod away in classic Stooges fashion, and this single has quickly become a personal favorite. But you don’t have to take my word for it: adventurous folks can type “sex scheme milf farm” into YouTube’s search box for an equally sublime “live in the studio” Sex Scheme video. Just don’t blame me if you click a “Related” link by accident!
Sissy Spacek Incomprehensible Dehumanization 7″ (Gilgongo)
So earlier I was saying how Gilgongo struck me as Troubleman Junior, and look – a Sissy Spacek 7″! If this isn’t one of the defining art-school noise-grind bands of the early ’00s, I don’t know who is. And just like Gilgongo staying true to form, Sissy Spacek haven’t changed one iota, and I thank them for that. The idea of live improv grindcore recordings cut up and edited into a wild sloppy mess is a great one, and that’s exactly what this is. I own like five Sissy Spacek 7″s and they’re all pretty much exactly like this (this could be a re-release of an earlier 7″ that I already own and I’d have no idea), but I don’t care about artistic deviation or creativity with this sort of project, I just want to hear the same minced-up blast-beats and white-noise cascading through my stereo for like five minutes or so. If there is still an active market for Sissy Spacek 7″s, it’ll blow my mind (the majority of this pressing has to remain in a Gilgongo-related closet until they eventually throw them away before a move, right?), but if there actually are people still buying harsh grind-based noise singles (particularly at today’s unfortunately high costs for a mail-order 7″), consider my heart warmed.
Talker Cut The Weight 12″ (D/N)
The phrase “industrial techno” can conjure a lot of things, from underground raves held inside abandoned factories to Throbbing Gristle remixes. As for Talker, the emphasis is on classic hard-hitting mid-’80s industrial music, with just enough of a club-ready pulse to maintain the “techno” tag. “Cut The Weight” is the title cut, and rightly so – it’s based on a metal-on-metal klang that’s straight out of Test Dept’s playbook. It almost feels like an accidental cover of Type O Negative’s “Der Untermensch” until a Rrose-esque rhythm bubbles up to the top. “Carrier” opens with nuclear-armed bass bombs, similarly paced to “Cut The Weight”, and eventually is subsumed by a Vatican Shadow-y locomotive pace before the beat disintegrates entirely. The 12″ ends with “Black Snake”, which negates the club entirely for a slow boil of metallic clatter and monastic hum; a bleak finale indeed. It’s all very of-the-moment, just bordering on passé if you’ve got an eye for techno trends, but Talker just nails it completely (and I admittedly really love the style) to the point where I wish there were five more Talker records for me to buy, import shipping costs and Euros-to-dollars conversion rates be damned. Talker is speaking my language!
Vexx Vexx 12″ (Grazer)
Who woulda thought that Olympia, WA would have one of the most interesting and raging hardcore scenes going in 2014? Not me! But here we are, and Vexx are certainly responsible, as this debut 12″ EP is a real rager. There’s lots of real ragers out there now, though, and I think it’s Vexx’s distinctive sound and voice that shifts my opinion from “good” to “fantastic”. They’re not too far off from Brain F≠, at least on paper: flailing, garage-inspired hardcore-punk with spoken-sung vocals and hectic tempos. It’s through the vocal approach of singer Mary Jane (no last name given, as if I was gonna Google her or something) that Vexx stand out, as she comes across like a possessed maniac who is living out her lyrics as she shouts them, not just reading her lines from a notebook. And when she wants to (like on “Clairvoyant”), she can really sing! In addition, the guitars are always finding ways to avoid being generic without being self-consciously weird or showy, which is no small feat when it comes to playing within the confines of punk rock. They’ll throw in a track like “Strength”, which is a slow jam more apropos of Major Stars or something (and is that a Moss Icon bassline?), and Vexx totally make it their own, and make themselves a whole lot more interesting in the process. Really hoping these folks come east for a tour, and bring shirts to sell – I’m not the type of guy who usually wears words on his shirts but I wouldn’t mind repping Vexx, even if I just wear it to bed.
Violent Outburst Survival Signs EP 7″ (Tension Head / Agitate)
The quality classic-reproduction era of hardcore continues, and if you thought we ran out of Violent-noun band names, think again! They certainly nail the artwork – from the incongruous font choices on the back, it looks like this should be some unearthed Deep Wound or Chemotherapy 7″ no one knew about. And I’ll give them points for not using an Olde English font anywhere on this thing! They nail the music too, which at this point is a pretty standard form of Boston Strangler-via-86 Mentality hardcore – you know the vocal style I’m talking about, and if I gave you a few tries, you could probably guess the riffs, too. Four songs here, no dirges, no melodies, no stinkers, just straight-forward clenched-fist hardcore, appealing to both skinheads and the naturally balding alike. Better than Violent Society and Violent Apathy, on par with Violent Children, Violent Ramp and Violent Minds, and undoubtedly lesser than Violent Femmes and Violent J.
Wake Up Forever Home 7″ (Decades)
Didn’t expect to fall in love with this random 7″ single by some band I never heard of before, but that’s often when love strikes, isn’t it? I know nothing about Wake Up besides that this is their debut 7″ on a small label out of West Palm Beach, Florida, of all places, and it’s supremely decadent pop-rock with just the right lingering indie-rock aftertaste. They open with “Forever Home”, which feels like some lost Oasis / Foo Fighters jam session that Stephen Malkmus wandered into on a particularly joyous evening, like he just got back from his best friend’s wedding and wanted to lay down some sincerely delighted vocals. The other two songs hit the same way, taking the poppiest Merge Records moments amped up with mainstream aspirations and a vocalist who does the whole indie-slacker style while remaining pitch-perfect, not succumbing to that whole “I’ll sing off-key on purpose” thing that works for so few. I guess there’s nothing really special about this EP, at least not in re-reading my own review of it, but then why does it make me feel so damn good?
Watery Love Sick People 7″ (In The Red)
Released alongside their debut LP, this colored vinyl 7″ single of two cover songs feels kinda like a victory lap for Watery Love, and rightfully so! They’ve earned it. It’s also really good, as Watery Love have always had a knack for choosing diverse-yet-appropriate cover songs. Breakdown’s “Sick People” might be their most apt choice yet – I never realized how Watery Love-esque the lyrics were until Richie Charles started spouting them off over this mean-mugged riff, bridging 1987 Manhattan and 2014 Fishtown both mentally and spiritually. Watery Love tackle “I Don’t Care” by a band called The Ramones on the flip, and it’s another riff ripe for the picking, surprisingly menacing and depressed for The Ramones but a perfect fit for Watery Love. The Pirates Press-style splatter vinyl is the only thing that seems out of place here, as flashy and gimmicky vinyl seems to go against the straight-forward, no-frills ethics that Watery Love have carried with them since day one. But I’m pretty sure they weren’t in charge of that anyway, and if I think any harder about something as inconsequential as that, I’ll have to listen to “I Don’t Care” one more time to get my head back on straight.
Westov Temple Messiah Drugs 12″ (Great Circles)
Westov Temple are another killer post-techno act that dances upon the intersection of noise, techno and electronics, and I’m proud to say they reside here in Philadelphia (am I supposed to read the name as “West Of Temple”, as in Temple University?). Just like that killer Dan Trevitt EP, this is a fine slab of semi-danceable electronics that comes unsleeved, only stamped. I guess grooves like this speak for themselves, like the beatless, jittery opener to the chooglin’ creeper that wraps it up. I’m reminded of the cold metallic sting of Terrence Dixon on “Messiah Drugs” and the tech-psych of Morphosis on “Geiger Memorial” (with a Pop Ambient touch) – there’s just a whole lot to enjoy here. The last track is probably my favorite, as it slumps around on its loop like Wolfgang Voigt’s Kafkatrax series, but also feels like something off one of those recent Miles Whittaker solo records. Really intriguing stuff, thanks to the variety of ideas on display, and it’s particularly delightful that they all seem fully-formed – this isn’t just some guy dabbling, he’s executing. Let’s keep these Great Circles coming!
White Murder White Murder LP (Razorcake / Recess)
White Murder have kindly sent me all three of their self-released 7″s throughout the years, so clearly all my reviews (and maybe just a tiny little bit of their own hard work) have culminated with the first record they didn’t press and finance themselves, on the respectable Razorcake and Recess labels. In case you forgot, they’re an LA-based quintet with two lead vocalists who play a pretty standard style of driving, moody punk rock. They sounded rougher in the past, as on their self-titled album, White Murder investigate some of the poppier, easier-digestible forms of punk-ish rock, coming across less like The Germs and more like their producer Joan Jett. They slow it down on multiple tracks, fixate on catchy choruses sung by both Hannah Blumenfeld and Mary Animal (although I still can’t tell either voice apart – they’re kind of like twins that are only distinctly recognizable to family members and close friends), and generally just bop along with a good-natured groove that belies their no-joke lyrics. Closing with an acoustic number, White Murder displays the many ways in which the group can rock, with the impression that their time spent in mosh pits and grimy basement clubs might be ticking as the alt-rock radio stations and tattoo convention musical showcases start fighting for their time.
Bashxx1 compilation 12″ (Bangers & Ash)
Normally a record as convoluted as this one (it features two remixes of “Certain Creatures” by Sparkle featuring Ike Yard, plus one remix of a Bulldozer Rituals track) is the sort of thing I’d politely ignore, but I need all the Kerridge I can get (he’s one of the remixers) and I had meant to check out more Jahiliyya Fields (another remixer), so there you go. It’s definitely a strange record whose point I don’t full grasp, but I guess once you dig into its meaty, rugged grooves, its necessity becomes clear. The 12″ opens with Samuel Kerridge’s huge “Certain Creatures” remix, which pretty much establishes doom-metal-techno as a new genre. It’s just an engulfing glacier of bass and darkness, with violent machines restarting their modems and what sounds like Tin Man’s ghost on vocals… if Air Conditioning grew up with Andy Stott as their only musical reference point, they might’ve sounded like this. That track made Bashxx1 worth the price of admission alone, but Clay Wilson fires up the flip with an Ostgut-worthy tough-techno banger, and Jahiliyya Fields (I verified it’s not the dude’s real name, sadly) splits the difference between the two, slowly boiling a pot of ominous spoken vocals and wriggly sine waves. A great EP all around, but man, I am just dying for more Kerridge, as he seems to have really hit his stride in creating doomy molten techno unlike anything else.
Atlantic Thrills Atlantic Thrills LP (Almost Ready)
Blow up those beach balls and dust off your Coleman cooler, it’s nearly summer and Atlantic Thrills are lighting up the tiki torches as I type. Following their cool 7″ (featuring the image-declaring “Day At The Beach”, also included here), Atlantic Thrills are making a case for the Almost Ready clan to pay attention to bands in 2014, not just 1978. Stylistically, Atlantic Thrills go from jangly, wimpy power-pop to scorching garage-rock to proto-punk glam to generic sock-hop schmutz. If you love all of those styles, it leads to a diverse and pleasing album, but I am only interested in about half of the ideas Atlantic Thrills are working with – I really have no idea what compels a band to write a ’50s slow-dance like “Foreign Lands”, like what specific enjoyment they reap from such a tune, but it’s here, and they wrote it. They fare better when they fall somewhere between The Rolling Stones and a Powerpearls compilation, rocking like an illegal frat party in 1965 (you know, before you could catch a terminal illness from having sex). More than me saying this album isn’t great, I’ll say that it’s not for me – I know there are guys out there who subscribe to Guitar Player and can rattle off every band lineup Eric Clapton and Ray Davies ever had, and if they were to hear Atlantic Thrills, they might think modern rock bands (besides Jack White, of course) aren’t so bad after all.
Back To Back Narcissist 7″ (540)
540 never goes long between doses of grizzled Texas hardcore, this attractive new Back To Back single being their latest. I dug the debut Back To Back 7″, as they managed to mix modern-day Hoax-inspired hardcore with more traditional influences, and this new one is cool too, even if it feels like more of a cry for Youth Attack’s attention than I might have hoped. The cover art has a die-cut cover with grainy black and white smears and suicide-letter typeface on the back, and the song “Narcissist” feels more Hoax-y than ever – from the Hellhammer-turned-punk riff to the cadence of the barked vocals, this one just reminds me that it’s been a few weeks since I threw on the Hoax album and should probably do that again (does anyone know for sure if they broke up, anyway?). It’s cool, and manages to change riffs enough that its side-long presence is justified, it just doesn’t seem very original. Neither does the b-side, “Ignore Me” – at this point, someone could put out a triple LP compilation of fast-hardcore-bands’ dirge songs (note to self: not a bad idea), and this one sounds fine. Although complete with “wild” guitar soloing, it’s just as predictable as Vile Gash writing lyrics with the word “shit” in them. And I get that Back To Back are trying to be mentally unstable and sociopathic with this one, but the lyrics are simply “ignore me / I’m not your friend” over and over again, which is kind of just funny if you think about it. I still like Back To Back, I just wish they didn’t check so many boxes on the modern-day post-mysterious hardcore checklist, but what can you do? Apparently they’re not my friend anyway.
Balcanes Plataforma / Autopista 7″ (Discos Humeantes)
From looks alone, this record had all the makings of something I’d dig – crappy black-and-white photo of random trash in a yard, Spanish import, seems punk… it’s gotta be good, right? Well, I listened, and it’s just okay, not the “Billy Bao fronting Drunks With Guns covering Anti-Cimex” I had envisioned in my head. I get that they are going for a heavy noise-rock thing, but the riff they chose for “Plataforma” is in Korn’s neighborhood, not Flipper’s, all down-tuned and generically-groovy with some barked, echoed vocals over top. “Autopista” is a little more my speed, as it sounds like they’re strumming without holding any of the strings down as the drums do something Swans might’ve tried back on Filth (and ends up kinda sounding like Sword Heaven in the process). I bet this band is fun to see live, particularly if they stick with the grim and hopeless vibe “Autopista” offers. Spain’s unemployment rate is nearly 30% – how can their punk bands not sound like this?
Barnett + Coloccia Retrieval LP (Blackest Ever Black)
Faith Coloccia and Alex Barnett are the duo behind this noisy, drone-y electronic project, with a project name that implies a sort of art-gallery seriousness rather than something that would’ve come in a spray-painted cassette limited to 28. It’s my understanding that these two both have a variety of other projects going on, none of which I am familiar with, but if I had the skills to cook up the deep electronic storm-clouds or rumbling, grievous bass they offer here, I’d probably be working on like five different projects too. Retrieval is kind of all over the place, at least when it comes to the underground dark-ambient arts: some tracks drift on extended blissful tones ala Tor Lundvall, at least one cut creeps around like John Carpenter’s Attack On Precinct 13, a couple have a sort of gothic Demdike streak in the way the bass puffs out like smoke, and others just kinda stagnate beautifully like something off of Aagoo Records’ modern composers series. There’s even one track that uses a very Regis-esque rotary motor rhythm, although the pounding techno thump is noticeably absent. It’s pretty cool, if not mandatory, and maybe a little more academic-sounding than anyone intended – or maybe it’s just that I’ve been listening to too much pop-punk lately. Worth a shot if there’s a ghost making all sorts of noises in your attic and you want to lure the sucker out for capture, at the very least.
Big Richard Insect Big Richard Insect 7″ (Major Crimes)
Hailing from Australia with a band name that sounds like a Birthday Party song, I was ready for Big Richard Insect to drag me through the back-alley filth on their debut 7″, but not so – this is a rock band who steps over puddles, not into them. Over these four tracks, they go from confident, sneering post-punk garage to flailing garage-punk, generally keeping their cool and enjoying the party without blacking out drunk. I’m reminded of the chooglin’ swing of Unnatural Helpers or the more rock-based Intelligence tracks here, with maybe a touch of the Ausmuteants’ shuffle. The first track, “Cop Out” is probably my favorite, as it’s the one that they’re most likely to wear sunglasses while performing, and in the case of Big Richard Insect, they sound best when maintaining their composure. All in all, this one ends up in the middle of the pack for me, neither outstanding nor awful, but if and when Big Richard Insect come forward with another musical offering in the future, I’ll gladly take a peek. Who can refuse a name like that?
Bronze World Arena LP (Not Not Fun)
Interesting album from Bronze, a group whose very name implies “we are worthy of third place”. I am at the point where I figure mostly everything from Not Not Fun is some form of inverted dance music, and while Bronze certainly know how to groove, I’d classify World Arena as traditionally psychedelic new-age “world” music – it’s heady home listening, not party jams. They’ve got a live drummer who is never short on fills, and another guy who plays synthesizers or generates rippling electronic tones to add to the groove. At times, it’s not too far from Silver Apples or The Soft Machine, particularly with the way the vocalist intones his lyrics as though he learned to sing from attending Catholic mass in the suburbs, stretching each syllable to a heavenly cadence. Actually, the singer kinds reminds me of the Balaclavas / Subsonic Voices guy, which is nice enough. Personally, I never quite fall too deeply into any of Bronze’s grooves, they’re just never heavy or trance-like enough for me (there’s that lingering feeling that these guys spend more time listening to Art Bears than Basic Channel), but it’s a cool outing nonetheless, and nice to know that hip underground artsy folk are still using live instruments, if only for a few final fleeting moments.
Brutal Truth / Bastard Noise The Axiom Of Post Inhumanity LP (Relapse)
Here’s a split made in power-violence heaven, two of the most formidable (or at least two of the oldest) groups to come out of that Slap A Ham / Bovine / Deep Six / 625 Productions axis of power. I know Bastard Noise are at the top of their game, and I’m always down for some Brutal Truth (even with the acknowledgment that their tracks are frequently “in one ear and out the other”), so it was with subtle amusement that I first received The Axiom Of Post Inhumanity‘s vague transmission. Let’s start with Brutal Truth: forget what you know about this group here, as their track is a quiet rumble of radio interference, crumbly bass-tone and distant feedback. It’s so subtle, lifeless and mild, I swear it makes Niellerade Fallibilisthorstar sound like Bruno Mars. I almost kind of love it; it’s just such a pointless curveball that the name “Brutal Truth” almost seems like false advertising. I had hopes for a pummeling set of evil-prog detonations from Bastard Noise, but that wasn’t meant to be, either – their trademarked Serpent and Orangutan vocals are in full effect over some harrowing electric squelch and cavernous atmosphere. It’s just as slow-moving and stagnant as Brutal Truth’s side, but vibrant, intense and scary too, unlike Brutal Truth’s dull hum of death. By all means, a throwaway release, but an interesting one? We all serve the skull in mysterious ways, I suppose.
Call Me Lightning Human Hell LP (25 Diamonds)
Up until I threw Human Hell on my turntable, I thought Call Me Lightning were the Erase Errata side-project I heard many years ago, but nope – that’s California Lightening! While I can usually go for some two-piece art-school no-wave, the peppy, ebullient punk of Call Me Lightning is pretty cool too. I’m getting kind of a scrubbed-clean Thermals vibe from these tracks, maybe with a touch of Ted Leo’s buttoned-up shirt and Plow United’s unbridled punkitude. And there’s this underlying mod-ish power-pop aftertaste I can’t quite pinpoint – maybe the vocals? It’s poppy punk, not pop-punk, the sort of distinction between young adults who care about the taste of their beer and the all-ages section in front of them just dying for a drip of anything that’ll get them wasted. Call Me Lightning are pretty good at it, and as this is like their fourth album (although the first I’ve heard), I can only imagine they’ve taken the past few years to hone their sound into the bouncy punk-rock fun I’m listening to right now. I’m just gonna forget the picture I saw of Call Me Lightning where they have long hair and beards, though – as far as I’m concerned, music that sounds like this can only be played by people in unlaundered band t-shirts and spiky bleached hair.
Coke Bust Confined LP (Grave Mistake)
Coke Bust just keep on bustin’ – I’m always impressed at thrashy, grindy hardcore bands who manage to put out like five 7″s, a few splits and a couple albums without breaking up or falling apart. It’s hard to maintain the intensity over that many songs and years, staying true to the band’s initial sound without simply writing the same song over and over, and clearly Coke Bust are one of the groups able to do so. So, on this 45 rpm 12″, there are another nine songs of fast, occasionally-moshable straight-edge hardcore, fitting perfectly between Government Warning and Low Threat Profile tracks on any podcast or radio show named after a Minor Threat song. I’m not sure there’s really anything about Confined that particularly stands out, besides being another good modern hardcore record with Olde English band-name lettering and vaguely-political imagery. They’re above local-band status, as far as the songwriting and energy is concerned, but I kinda need a little something more, some sort of indefinable spark that makes me want to locate Coke Bust’s set time on one of those twelve-band DC hardcore fests. Maybe once the guitar is revealed to be an undercover DEA officer responsible for shutting down Maryland’s largest cocaine ring, I’ll really start to take note. It’s time they lived up to that stupid name of theirs.
Day Creeper Hell Is Real LP (Tic Tac Totally)
Cut those jeans into jean-shorts and follow Day Creeper into a punk house filled with cheap beer, dirty couches and slacker-rock power-pop music. I remember hearing a Day Creeper single I thought was cool, and Hell Is Real unenthusiastically confirms it – this trio doesn’t have much power, but they wear their meager strength well. I’m envisioning a less-strange Home Blitz meeting up with J. Mascis for a trip through the Lookout! Records warehouse when it comes to the Day Creeper sound, one where the band is little more than a delightful hobby and the guitarist ended up being the lead singer simply because no one else wanted a mic near their face. Their songs might not redefine rock music, but for a band that’s indie-rock power-pop, they never bore me either, which is a testament to the enjoyability and wry ‘tude Day Creeper emote. You’re probably like me and not particularly interested in Day Creeper, but you’ve probably also got that one friend that lives with like six roommates, delivers pizza, plays in four different bands and is the happiest person you know, so you might as well tell them about Day Creeper the next time you text them trying to buy weed.
Drekka Ekki Gera Fikniefnum LP (Dais)
If you’re like me, there’s probably been some point in your life when you played a death metal record for someone and they were like “I don’t get it”, and you realized your tolerance for extreme music was higher than the average layperson. Well, this Drekka album is the type of record that forces even the most extreme avant-garde non-music lover to scratch their head in confusion – it takes “I don’t get it” to a new level, which is surely at least part of the point. Ekki Gera Fikniefnum opens with a big wide sprawl of choral vocals, really quite beautiful in a non-denominationally religious way, and that slowly disintegrates into looped radio static, which eventually removes its mask to reveal it’s just a videotape-rewinding machine that fell in the bathtub. Flip it over, and it seems like the music’s missing, until you realize that the faint rumble you’ve been hearing for the past five minutes is actually Drekka, not a wet quilt in the washing machine downstairs. The whole thing has the sort of creepy, mysterious and anything-goes vibe of irr. app. (ext.) or Stilluppsteypa, music that clearly comes from a creative mind that no one else will ever understand. Did I mention there’s a guy yodeling in a bird mask at the dinner table on the cover? It’s just one of those delightful anomalies, where you give up trying to figure anything out and just let it twist and massage your brain for half an hour or so.
Drug Store Deathwork / Surface 7″ (no label)
So one night a couple weeks ago I opened my front door and this Drug Store 7″ was laying there. No postage, mind you – someone in the band came to my house and just left if there. Kind of a perfectly creepy way for this 7″ to arrive… never before has a band left me feeling so exposed and weirded out! This sensation was amplified by the fact that after I threw it on, I realized I didn’t like their music at all, and was going to have to publicly declare this, as I am now. I really hope this doesn’t result in a dead squirrel stuffed in my mailbox, or a picture of me covered in blood taped to my screen door, but these songs just aren’t very good. “Deathwork” feels like it’s seven minutes long, alternating between soft verse and heavy chorus like a really budget-basement Helmet at their least innovative, and “Surface” is the same but slower, and kind of reaches a point of lousiness that it almost feels like one of the worst thug-core demo tapes that Back Ta Basics would’ve released in 1993. I really appreciate this band taking the time to pass me a single, I sincerely mean it, but I just as sincerely did not enjoy either of these two tunes. If I go missing in a few weeks, can one of you please email the Philadelphia homicide unit this review?
Father Murphy Pain Is On Our Side Now 2×10″ (Aagoo / Boring Machines)
This is the second Father Murphy release to pass through the Yellow Green Red estate, and while I recall the first as a sort of non-committal, carnival folk-noise, dis-ambient experimental thing, this right here is the record I’m going to remember. First off, it’s a gatefold double 10″, but both records are one sided. Why not just release a single 10″ and make a YouTube video of yourself throwing $700 off a cliff? This is an exceptional waste of money, and I don’t want these two fine labels to think it went unnoticed. It also helps that the music on Pain Is On Our Side Now sticks with me more now, too – it falls somewhere between the spell-binding freak-show oeuvres of Daniel Higgs and Steven Stapleton (two masters if there ever were), and there’s enough space to the tunes without ever getting boring (whatever plot Father Murphy put together here is excellent). You’re trapped in a confessional booth with a spaghetti-western guitar one moment and hiding in Ben Frost’s attic the next, ripe with mystery and ill at ease. If you only buy one double-one-sided 10″ gatefold this year, well…
Marcel Fengler Fokus 2xLP (Ostgut Ton)
As a huge fan of Marcel Fengler’s various EPs, remixes and associated productions, I was excited for him to step into the album format with all his creativity and powerhouse techno in tow. After a few listens through Fokus, I can tell you that the creativity is certainly still there, but Fengler seems to have opted for a more cinematic and graceful foray into the long-playing format, leaving his wall-busting techno chops behind. It’s kind of a bummer, honestly – Fengler was able to take a Radiohead sample and turn it into aggressive, memorable Ostgut-style tech-house. He always had his own unique little stamp on his dance-floor monsters, but this album moves away from aggression to a land of contemplation, beauty and, well, occasional boredom. There’s still a sleek craftsmanship at work here, but none of these tracks seem geared toward explosive human interaction, so much as chin-scratching and toe-tapping in the lobby of a beautiful space-age hotel. Perhaps once I get accustomed to Marcel Fengler’s lighter side, I’ll really be able to dig into Fokus for the thoughtful, lush album it is, but for now I’m still mildly lamenting what it isn’t.
Hashman Deejay Tangerine / Orbis Tertius 12″ (Future Times)
Future Times are probably one of the most unique and established American dance labels at the moment, so it’s only fitting they start releasing strange one-off 12″s with aliases that are probably just someone from one of their core groups getting a little wild. Right? I mean maybe Hashman Deejay is some stranger who showed up with a demo, but when I’m blasting “Tangerine”, it feels very much like one of Protect U’s more serene (and less busy) moments. There’s one synth chord that is held down for the entirety of the track, initially acting as a soft cushion to rest your head and eventually knocking the listener out of equilibrium with its impending sway. Fairly minimal, unobtrusive track, and I dig it. “Orbis Tertius” has the more scientific title, and it’s a little freakier – he’s more like Hashman Delay here, sending all sorts of pings and pongs out of orbit, like Newworldaquarium on a headier trip or something by Reboot (or some other mid-card Cadenza act). Nothing to really rave about (pun intended), but I have certainly enjoyed spinning both of these tracks on numerous occasions. Perhaps eventually I will unlock the Hashman’s secret, just like all those other Mega Man bosses.
Russell Haswell 37 Minute Workout LP (Diagonal)
I’ve been reading about Russell Haswell for years. Whether he likes it not, he is basically the “I love acid rave and Carcass!” guy, which isn’t that bad of a title to hold, really. He’s like the aggro-mosher who was somehow allowed into the stuffy halls of musical avant-garde academia, and he seems like a fun enough guy to pal around with. Anyway, 37 Minute Workout is my first musical encounter with him – this LP is advertised as a decent summary of his musical exploits, and it looks nice enough that I had to give it a go. It’s kind of what I expected, but also not: Haswell clearly revels in torturing break-beat jungle rhythms, pushing them until every speaker is either blown or smoking. It’s like the earliest Venetian Snares albums thrown on the floor by Aufgehoben, and while it’s not an everyday listen, it hits the spot nicely when the mood is right. A good half of 37 Minute Workout is even more extreme, though – Haswell will isolate one particular sound, be it a distorted hand-clap, a wet slurp or a firecracker explosion, and he will just plug away at that one particular effect until everyone has cleared the room. I don’t quite “get” the point of it, beyond direct and intended annoyance, but it’s kind of fun to listen to a pack of firecrackers endlessly going off and imagine Haswell’s cheeky smirk from the booth. Regardless, it all comes together for a manic, wild dose of hardcore electronics, and I look forward to future encounters.
Heavy Chains Heavy Chains 7″ (Bruised Tongue)
Heavy Chains is two thirds Nü Sensae and one fourth White Lung, the sort of Canadian punk rock pedigree that should lead to something interesting if not necessarily great. I’ve spun my way through this Heavy Chains single a few times, and while I definitely don’t get the point of it (nor would I consider myself a fan), it’s interesting, at the very least! They open with a basic driving instrumental intro (with unexpected bass-soloing grabbing the spotlight), and cut into a fairly uninspired G.I.S.M. cover, with vocals distorted six ways ’til Sunday (I’m reminded of the vocals on the Entropy 7″ on 625 Productions – too obscure a reference, I know, but it’s all I can think about). The creepy naked cult art had me expecting at least one gnarly dirge, and I got it on the b-side with “No Law, No Crime”, which is neither heavy enough or noisy enough to have any sort of impact (and the gurgly vocal yawn doesn’t add much, either). I can’t tell if this band is trying to be normal or crazy (or crazy because they’re so normal), but they seem to miss the mark at being either, just kinda dipping their toes in the water instead of committing to anything I’d want to gush to you about. Oh well!
Herz Jühning Paradise 7″ (Galakthorrö)
Had to grab the new Herz Jühning single, of course, as he’s part of the Galakthorrö family to whom I have already pledged my allegiance. While I dug most of his album Miasma, something about its tenor seemed a little too shock-jock for my tastes (I don’t need to hear any more power-electronics tracks that feature sampled tortured shrieks of women), so it was a pleasure to receive Paradise, what I’d say is a much more refined, mature and interesting release. Opening with the vocals of one “Khristiane N.”, it’s clear that Herz is looking for more than just harsh blasts of static and violent male vocals, and it’s appreciated. “To The Stars” is particularly pleasing – it’s heading up the on-ramp to minimal techno, but still tweaked and wave-y enough (thanks to those classic Haus Arafna-style deadpan vocals) that no dance venue would allow it access. The two b-side tracks have the patented “futuristic vision of a horrible German fable” vibe I’ve come to love from Galakthorrö, as if you went to the dentist only to realize it’s Baba Yaga who is preparing to drill your cavities. It’s a miserably bleak EP from the folks that do that sort of thing best, and I’m warning you now: don’t read the lyrics to “Road To Paradise” unless you’ve got a recipe that calls for human tears.
Jackals No Solution LP (Hardware)
Depending on the time of day, I either love or hate just how self-referential and standardized hardcore has become. Not only are Jackals another Olde English-font hardcore band with a black-and-white collage-art album cover (featuring armed soldiers, of course), but at least four of their song titles are the names of other hardcore bands or hardcore bands’ album titles (“Manipulation”, “Sorry Excuse”, “Pulled Under” and “No Solution”). And if there isn’t already a band called “Violent Suppression”, I am sure we won’t have to wait much longer. On one hand, I can listen to Jackals’ No Solution and enjoy it for the raging Celtic Frost heaviness and Die Kreuzen speed which it contains (imagine a mix of Destino Final and Hoax with some slight X-Claim! leanings), and on the other, I can bemoan the fact that there are dozens of bands doing this very exact same thing at this very exact same moment (there’s even a “creepy” slow song with echoed vocals, a hallmark of 2010s hardcore). Jackals are certainly good, but the problem is that almost all of the bands doing this thing are good – it’s almost like we are due for a series of awful, clueless, uncool hardcore bands to arrive out of nowhere and shake things up out of our current retro-mania, this world where every bassist wears a freshly-bootlegged Void t-shirt and every singer has a Tumblr named after a G.I.S.M. track. Can someone please shut down the internet for a year so this has a chance of happening?
Stefan Jaworzyn Drained Of Connotation LP (Blackest Ever Black)
Blackest Ever Black goes Pinkest Ever Pink on this fine archaeological find care of Stefan Jaworzyn’s closet. Who knows what other fantastic Skullflower and Whitehouse oddities lurk in there, but as far as my particular tastes (which frequently happen to align with Blackest Ever Black’s), Drained Of Connotation hits a very sweet spot. This album consists entirely of barely-functioning, ultra simplistic drum machine / synth-noise interplay, the sort of thing where Jaworzyn could’ve easily taken multiple smoke breaks as these songs played out and we’d be none the wiser. The drum machine will pump out some crude Neu!-style one-two one-two, or something even far less than that, as a Korg MS10 (or 20) continually squiggles over top. I suppose there are technically seven tracks here, but it all feels like one singular idea, and not a very conceptual or complex idea at that – this is really just a recording of a man pressing buttons and turning knobs with a maximum of two fingers, and it falls in the musical zone of solitary pointlessness that I find utterly entrancing. I kind of get the feeling that by its release, Jaworzyn is just showing off that he was doing cool stuff back when today’s tech-noise all-stars were in diapers, but who cares if this album is one big showboat – it’s a wonderful waste of time.
Karlist Skins Off / Hexagonal 12″ (Russian Torrent Versions)
Been meaning to pick up one of these Russian Torrent Versions 12″s for a little bit now – I think it’s a funny idea for a fake bootleg label, and the artists involved are usually on the heavier, monolithic side of the L.I.E.S. camp (and I presume there is some direct correlation between these labels, too). Never heard of Karlist before, but this is some cool banging techno, about as simple and easy as it gets, and I don’t mean that in a negative way. “Skins Off” is all flailing morse-code percussion and snippy hi-hats, the sort of linear song that feels like it’s heading downhill rather than straight across the horizon, taking out all manner of debris and unsecured structures along the way. “Hexagonal” is a little more hands-on, riding a big bass swell with all sorts of rhythm boxes contributing to the anxiety and speed the track provides, a real dance-floor rush of slightly-uneasy euphoria. There is absolutely nothing new here, and I bet Jeff Mills has external hard-drives filled with hours of hard techno just as simplistic and great as this 12″, but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed Karlist any less. Part of the beauty of techno is that there is an infinite, constantly-expanding supply of it, so since I’m never going to hear it all (or even 5% of it), I’ll take whatever records I do stumble upon and cherish them as my own.
Lilacs & Champagne Midnight Features Vol. 1: Shower Scene 12″ (Mexican Summer)
There’s a lot of info to chew on just between the artist name and record title, isn’t there? I guess these folks really want to set the scene, and I suppose it’s fitting, as there is a sense of glorious ’80s soft-core excess befitting a dog-eared Danielle Steel novel. It opens with a cut-and-paste groove that could’ve come from Daughn Gibson or Madlib, all coked-up and waiting for the limo to arrive, and it quickly moves toward a pensive “Charles Bronson pondering his daughter’s disappearance in the rain” scene with live-in-the-studio guitars and a mustachioed wink toward Steely Dan. It sounds cool in theory and practice, but Lilacs & Champagne take this fairly trendy template and give it a post-rock twist, of all things, as the b-side features guitar leads out of one of those long and winding Magma live LPs, or maybe even something Mogwai would’ve fiddled with? It’s kind of a weird mesh, but it works for Lilacs & Champagne. I just hope some Hollywood music supervisor stumbles onto them, as a movie featuring a Lilacs & Champagne soundtrack and Jason Statham driving a nuclear-armed convertible is nothing less than box office gold.
Ron Morelli Periscope Blues LP (Hospital Productions)
Morelli’s Hospital debut, Spit, really stuck with me in a way I wasn’t quite prepared for. It’s an album filled with grimy drum machines and “anyone could do this” loops, nothing special on paper, but it’s like every specific loop or rhythm he chose to work with was just so perfectly vulgar or destitute that I found myself obsessed. I actually skipped the Backpages follow-up – it could be fantastic, but all the advertising made it seem kind of superfluous (wasn’t its centerpiece just another version of a track from Spit?), and I’ve got to be at least somewhat smart with my money (I try to keep at least $500 in the Demdike Stare Emergency Release Fund at all times). So now here I am with Periscope Blues, and the beatless, new-age-basement drift of opener “Alone On The Beach (Beach Mix)” has me wondering if I shouldn’t have held off here, too. The rest of the record is nearly as minimal – I’m talking one machine per track, be it the keyboard creep of “Shredder” or the analog sound-box tweaking of “Island Bore”. My favorite is probably “Director Of (A Cappella)”, a concise collage of backwards speaking that could’ve worked for Lemon Kittens or Coil in their earliest days. Periscope Blues is growing on me, now that I’ve become accustomed to what it is (and what it ain’t), but only the most willing participants need apply – no amount of colorful explanation will coerce your well-adjusted dance-music-dabbling indie-rock friend into enjoying this.
Johnny Noise The Day Is Coming LP (Siltbreeze)
Los Llamarada were one of the most singular and interesting groups to come out of the mid-’00s Siltbreeze melee, and while their records contained some actual great (yet distorted) rock tunes, I always found their side-projects to be even more curious – what the hell was that The Love Is So Fast EP about anyway? And there was a Madonna cover on it? Sheesh. Anyway, Johnny Noise is another Llamarada alumni, and this album is one long, dreary slog through a sweltering lo-fi apartment complex. It almost feels like Mr. Noise is bemoaning the loss of his band here, just kinda grinding out these tuneless tunes all by his lonesome. So you have a better idea of what I’m talking about, The Day Is Coming sounds like the two existing Fuckin’ Flyin’ A-Heads tunes stretched out further than their chemical makeup could handle, with the Der TPK guy mumbling along and tapping his feet off-time to a guitar that is playing its own off-time riff. This album feels inappropriately long, a toiling drudge that makes you wish Mr. Noise had more friends or longer hours at work or something. But in a good way! It’s not often I keep playing a record that feels too long to me, but I’ve already spent at least a couple hours of my life listening to Johnny Noise whittle away at nothing. It beats going to the movies.
Permanent Ruin San Jose 7″ (Not Normal Tapes)
Not Normal Tapes? I’ll say! This thing’s a record! Along with the overwhelming hardcore consensus, I loved the first two Permanent Ruin 7″s, but to be honest, I kinda thought my quota was full after that – Permanent Ruin hit that “perfect grindy thrash-core” spot right away, and there’s kinda nowhere to go from there but to burn out in a flash. Then I saw Permanent Ruin live, and whatever smouldering fire I had was back up in flames. The drummer was a visual blur that has me convinced there’s an octopus in his heritage; the singer routinely disappeared into the sea of front-row bodies only to come out unscathed time and time again; the bassist was set on vibrate-mode; and the guitarist managed to fold his guitar over his head in some sort of weird Rocky pose while playing their intense and frantic hardcore music. Permanent Ruin songs are so tight and tricky (without ever feeling technical or mathy), so I wouldn’t have held it against the band to just stand still and concentrate, but these folks exploded themselves, and it was experienced vicariously by all in attendance. Now, I blast San Jose to relive that fix, and it comes pretty damn close.
The Phantom Family Halo Raven Town Witch LP (Sophomore Lounge)
It’s a shame ICP ruined the term “The Dark Carnival”, because it would’ve otherwise been a perfect fit for The Phantom Family Halo’s Raven Town Witch. This group has been cool for a while now, and while I probably preferred the semi-lucid VHS synth nightmares of their previous Sophomore Lounge album (weirder and freakier for sure), this one sounds good too. They’re certainly in full band mode, and feeling a bit psychedelic – where they once were kraut-like in their repetitive grooves, The Phantom Family Halo have jingle-jangled and Farfisa-d themselves into an ominous corner of the original Woodstock festival, one where daylight cannot penetrate the purple velvet glued over their van’s windows. Very hippy-dippy, but with a morbid fascination and a modern knowledge of grooves that hold up, kinda like a more studied and less-posturing Far Out Fangtooth (or perhaps even closer to the solo work of Mr. Fangtooth himself, Joe Kusy). Pretty nice overall, still creepy enough that the kindergarten-book “dead pet” painting on the back cover is even spookier than that description sounds. I might not learn to juggle fire while listening to this LP, but I’d wax my mustache as it plays, sure.
Powerblessings Quick Guide To Heart Attacks LP (Manhattan Chemical And Electronic)
A full-color, heavy duty tip-on sleeve is always a nice way for an LP to make a first impression, which is the case with this Powerblessings album. I recall hearing a 7″ of theirs before, and rating it a fine-if-unexceptional Hot Snakes-style rock affair. Now, gussied up in this attractive package, I’d say my initial assessment stands partly true – either I am paying closer attention now or they’ve become poppier this time around. Poppy is relative though, and I’m talking in the Dillinger Four sense – bearded, beer-blasted and getting older (and wiser). Not entirely far from Avail either, except a guy that just skanks on stage would never fit in the straight-line rock trajectory of most Powerblessings tunes. This isn’t really a style of music I want to hear too often (impassioned post-hardcore with rock riffing and punk fury), but Powerblessings have succeeded with Quick Guide To Heart Attacks – at the very least, they spent a hell of a lot on record sleeves.
Rapturous Grief Ficcion Corporativa 7″ (Scavenger Of Death)
While most people with an eye for modern hardcore trends are watching labels like Toxic State and Katorga Works, I swear, Scavenger Of Death is continually pumping out the raging nuclear hardcore hits with little to no fanfare. Or maybe I’m just hanging out in the wrong places! This Rapturous Grief EP is some fantastic thrashy, grindy hardcore, that’s for sure. It’s got a Shitlickers speed and intensity, the mind-boggling energy of Imagen, and the distortion-singed recording quality of Hoax. They’ll do some flailing d-beat track that lasts twenty seconds, then bust into some grindcore cut before breaking it down for a quick circular mosh. There are ten tracks here, and I forgot how much I missed ten-song hardcore EPs until Rapturous Grief started spanking me all over the room. Sure, they use a distressed Old English font for their band name like every other band today, but if there’s one group that deserves full ownership of that font, it’s these folks. Blast this one between the first E-150 7″ and No Comment’s Downsided and if anyone complains, remove them from your apartment immediately.
Red Dons Notes On The Underground 7″ (Grave Mistake)
Do you think that anyone has ever responded to the question “hey, you wanna write some punk songs?” with the answer “sure, do you mean songs that are four to five minutes in length?”? And yet the Red Dons are clearly a punk group, offering two lengthy tracks of moody melodic punk. It’s pretty good – I’m reminded of a depressed Marked Men, a bouncy No Hope For The Kids, or a pop-punk-infused Adverts as I spin these tunes. They get it pretty much right, from the well-sung vocals to the two-note “police siren” guitar solo that occurs over a moody, incessant bass-line. Clearly these songs took time to put together, and while that may fly in the face of punk’s other definitions, Red Dons are a good example of why rehearsal and forethought can occasionally work for a punk rock band.
Red Monkey How We Learned To Live Like A Bomb LP (Our Voltage)
I’ve probably thumbed past an entire pressing’s worth of Red Monkey records in the used bins over the years, and now those singles are collected on one full-length LP. Gotta say, I was never a fan of this band – they were the one Troubleman band in the label’s heyday (2000-2004) I never really got. The riffs were just too boring, the vocals too purposely-tuneless, and I dunno, I’d rather just spend some time with The Party Of Helicopters or Orthrelm than these folks. Hell, I’d even consider myself a big Milky Wimpshake fan, who I believe share Red Monkey membership, so it’s not any sort of personal vendetta or inability to understand their music… I just never wanted to hear them again after the first few times. In spinning How We Learned To Live Like A Bomb, my personal history remains intact, as they are as uninteresting and boring to me now as they were a decade ago. And this album feels inescapably long, too. But, if you’re a fan of the band, you can now buy this shiny new album rather than scrounging the dollar-bin for the original singles – I just won’t be there with you.
Sacred Product Wastex 2×7″ (Quemada)
Allow me to get you caught up on your Australian underground bedroom indie-noise gossip – the magnificent Satanic Rockers broke up after a 7″ and the LP with the outrageous cover, but the main guy in the band (Lynton Denovan, if you really care) is also doing a thing called Sacred Product on the side, although it seems like it started back when Satanic Rockers were going strong (and one of these tracks was actually recorded back in 2001). Phew! I’m a huge Satanic Rockers fan, and an even bigger fan of double 7″ EPs (seriously, I love these things, particularly as they become less and less economically viable), so I was psyched to get my mitts on this one. I’ll go ahead and presume you’re familiar with the sludgy, seated-on-the-couch rock moves of Satanic Rockers, and I’ll tell you that Sacred Product seem to move away from the blues / metal riff as their songwriting backbone and closer to something more post-punk in nature. I guess Denovan is playing these songs by himself, and besides the more frantic instrumental from 2001 (“Sonic Country”), these songs kinda play out somewhere between the morose sparseness of The Native Cats, the bumpkin swing of Swell Maps, the upside-down rock interpretation of The Lost Domain and the sleepy-eyed vocalization of Ziggy Stardust Band. I might not be quite as into these tracks if I didn’t already love Satanic Rockers, because some of these songs are astonishingly normal – “Tram And Train” almost feels like some random new-wave band that would’ve opened for The Ramones in 1983, like The dB’s or something. I really do dig Sacred Product though, and can only hope to obtain the full-length album that apparently also exists.
Select Sex Select Sex 7″ (Our Voltage)
Sometimes I just pull out a new record and throw it on before so much as looking at the sleeve – it’s nice to just hear music with little more than a band name once in a while. That’s what I did with this Select Sex 7″, a band I had previously never heard of, and as I was sitting there tapping my knees to the distorted, roughed-up art-punk, I was thinking “man, this singer is giving off a strong Behead The Prophet vibe”. Lo and behold, it is the Behead The Prophet guy singing! Joshua Plague has such a distinct voice that whatever band he’s currently in, he’s the guiding force. I loved Behead The Prophet, was lukewarm on Lords Of Lightspeed, savored the Mukilteo Fairies EP, and was disappointed that Warm Streams ended so abruptly, and while I am just spouting off my personal Plague List, I can say that Select Sex are pretty sweet too. Definitely less hardcore here, and more something that hits in the Gravity / Three One G intersection, where Drive Like Jehu and The VSS commingle as the worthy influences they are. If there’s a cure for this Plague, I hope they never find it!
Streetwalker Ooze 12″ (Diagonal)
I know very little about Streetwalker, and I am happy to keep it that way – music this tweaked doesn’t need a backstory or glossy promo photo. It’s on Diagonal, a fairly new label carving out its own little nook in the world of modern-avant / blasted electronics, and I’m glad I picked it up! “Ooze” is a long one, taking full reign of the twelve available inches it’s been allotted, and I’m glad that’s the case – it’s a really enjoyable cut of analog basement un-techno, a light trot of a groove that’s always subtly shifting and coated with some sort of space goo (Predator blood, maybe?). You ever watch an ’80s movie that features an alien that doesn’t talk, only makes sounds? There’s a lot of that sort of synthy garble bubbling through the stock groove here, and it’s a delight. Even better, there’s a Silent Servant remix on the flip, which injects the track with some sort of X-Men steroids, boosting the kick to dance-floor quality and intensifying the main synth-worm until it threatens to kill us all. Almost feels like a demonic phantom-twin of something that Mr. Oizo would’ve done in 2009, which of course is high praise from me. Hoping to hear more music like this from both of these weirdos!
Subsonic Voices Primitive Shambles 12″ (Dull Knife)
Subsonic Voices are “the new Balaclavas band”, a Houston-based industrial/post-punk group that never quite seemed to get their due. I’ve been spinning this debut EP for a few weeks now, and I have come up with a pretty sharp comparison (if I say so myself) that I’m pretty sure the band will hate, but I gotta go with it – Subsonic Voices is the Mars Volta to Balaclavas’ At The Drive-In. Many of the same musical signifiers are in place: bass-heavy grooves, electronics woven into the guitar-based mix, bold and distinct singing. It’s just that now, Subsonic Voices seem to have moved from the basement club to the theater hall, bringing new levels of bombast, synthetic doom and vocals that float higher and flashier than ever before. I’ve been thinking about that comparison so much that Primitive Shambles actually started to sound like Mars Volta (or at least just their first EP), as the vocals aren’t too far apart really, and if you told me the band’s intent was to meld The VSS, Pink Floyd and Bauhaus for a release on Wax Trax, I wouldn’t doubt your sincerity. They’ve got something cool going on and I hope there’s more to come.
Te/DIS Comatic Drift LP (Galakthorrö)
For a label that has released basically like seven different artists over the course of 20+ years, it’s always interesting to me when Galakthorrö picks up someone new. Te/DIS (apparently short for Tempted Dissident?) started with a 7″ single last year, and they’ve quickly graduated to the full-length form in the lavish, darkly seductive Galakthorrö standard. I’d love to love it, and it certainly wasn’t cheap, but I don’t know – Te/DIS have all the right parts, but it just doesn’t click for me the way essentially every other Galakthorrö artist does. Musically, it’s somewhere on the November Növelet side of things, morbidly melodic and with hints of synth-wave and -pop rather than blustery electronic noise. I guess it’s probably the vocals – they have that sort of Laibach / Silk Flowers tone, where it seems like they are purposely being extended deeper than the vocalist’s natural range, resulting in a sort of unintended cheesiness. It’s not jarring or weird – plenty of guys sing with this same gothic Eeyore voice, it’s just that compared to how beautiful or strange or jarring the vocals of most other Galakthorrö artists are, Te/DIS falls a little short (and on a label as distinct and curated as this, it’s impossible not to directly compare). It’s still a cool album though, and as I trust Galakthorrö with both heart and wallet, I will pull it out again a few months from now on a particularly rainy night and see if a candle or two doesn’t mysteriously blow out.
Torn Hawk We Burst Time 12″ (Valcrond Video)
I’ll admit, I always feel a slight tinge of betrayal when an American electronic producer has their records exclusively distributed in Europe – what about your fans back home! I kinda understand the logistics behind it though, and after Torn Hawk’s L.I.E.S. 12″ nearly spun my head right off my shoulders, I decided I needed to do whatever it took to get the rest of his vinyl. This one comes with a cool A/V-smear cover design (surely of Torn Hawk’s own hand) and these two long cuts fit nicely into what I’ve come to expect while still pushing to the unknown. “We Burnt Time” is hard to describe – it has the audio sensations of an Actress or Oneohtrix Point Never track (that is to say, garbled, static-laced nostalgia sounds with an underlying new-age taste), but it plays out more like something John Carpenter or Kraftwerk would have put together – very linear and rigid; constantly chugging along toward the end like the red bar on a YouTube clip. Kind of soothing, but slightly disorienting, like sitting in one of those robotic massage chairs that you are certain is going to malfunction and cut your spine in half. “Throb & Ruin” continues that sensation, but with a stronger sense of urgency and a more powerful synth surge – I probably prefer it of the two, but both sides are excellent cuts of a sub-genre of electronic music yet to be classified (and run into the ground with formulaic copycats). If only the newest Torn Hawk “album” wasn’t cassette only! But if there’s one artist who can force me to reach past my limits, it’s this guy.
Dan Trevitt The Missing 12″ (Great Circles)
I’m happy to follow darkly mysterious techno to a burnt-out Russian basement, a warehouse in the Hague or up a foggy Spanish mountain, but I never expected to find anything cool within walking distance – great electronic music just isn’t supposed to happen in Philadelphia. Well, in spite of my disbelief, the Great Circles label exists, and is pumping out the sort of music I gladly pay import shipping costs for. It’s a wonderful feeling! This Dan Trevitt EP is fantastic – it’s not out of line with the Sandwell District scene and its many acolytes, but Trevitt isn’t afraid to spruce up a churning industrial rhythm with a chemical sting or lace it with some alien electronics I’d expect to find in an early T++ cut. Reminds me a bit of that last Morphosis album too, in the way Trevitt massages noisy frequencies into head-bobbable loops, and I guess it’s no surprise that Morphosis made a bunch of friends while he was here last summer and is currently devoting his label to documenting the legacy of Charles Cohen. Is the American techno renaissance upon us?
Watery Love Decorative Feeding LP (In The Red)
After waiting what seemed like an eternity, the Watery Love album is finally upon us. Whatever hype I built up in my head over months of anticipation has been dwarfed by the actual greatness of Decorative Feeding – here’s a band that started as an extreme piss-take on entertaining rock music, and they pulled the ultimate prank by progressively getting better and better until becoming a legitimately great band. The knuckle-dragging Cheater Slicks / Action Swingers-style tunes are still here (their anthem “I’m A Skull” makes a reappearance), and vocalist / guitarist Richie Charles sometimes sounds closer to the blabbermouth in Cyanamid than he might have intended, but it’s a beautiful sound to behold. There’s a definite Drunks With Guns vibe in the form of nonchalant misanthropy too, but it’s prime Mike Doskocil stuff, none of that splinter-band nonsense. The angry working-class “drunk at the kitchen table under a single light-bulb” vibe is still in full effect, but there are also these emotionally complex, moodier tracks like “Piece Of Piss”, “Only Love” and “Face The Door” that allow the burden of too-smart-for-his-own-good, blue-collar misery to be highlighted in fresh and interesting ways. Charles welcomes death (unlike his loser friends) and resents his girlfriend’s preference to her dog over him (or so the lyrics I can make out lead me to believe), often doing so in a speaking voice rather than a shout, and it’s this strange finesse that makes the record just as fascinating as it is kick-ass. I know these guys are proud of this record, and I’m proud of them too!
Richard Youngs Stolen 7″ (Dirty Knobby)
The Man Of A Thousand Releases hits the always-enjoyable Dirty Knobby label for a new 7″, so why not? You never know if Youngs is going to read you a bedtime story or drop a Hefty bag of pots and pans on your head, which is a big part of the fun. This single is right up my alley, actually – it’s buzzing, maniacal and silly, like some classic UK DIY repurposed for a Monty Python short. Both “A Stolen Ringbuoy” and “A Stolen Life” work a similar template – fast-forward drum loops, tuneless guitar wanderings, goofy sound-effects and upper-register vocals that seem blissfully unaware of the clown-shoe cacophony happening all around them. It has the feel of a few different insect species crawling all over each other, like a busy ant farm and a buzzing beehive placed in similiar territory and filmed for National Geographic. I don’t really keep up with Richard Youngs, there’s just so much constantly being pumped out, but this one is a winner. I wonder if Dirty Knobby are as surprised as I am, or if they specifically chose these tracks? The world may never know.
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