TUMA, SCOTT Not For Nobody (Digitalis) cd 17.98
The first time we heard Scott Tuma play guitar, was with skeletal slowcore country legends Souled American. His washed out dreamlike atmospheric guitar parts helped define their sound, but more importantly, introduced Tuma as a truly idiosyncratic guitar player, with a haunting and mysteriously unique sound. Tuma's music was like an acoustic version of Tim Hecker or Fennesz, but whereas those guys use electronics and computers and effects to transform their guitars into blurred dronescapes, Tuma's approach is much more organic, unfurling skeletal guitar lines, a slowed down Appalachia deftly woven into a sprawl of slow motion, washed out, sepia toned countrified ambience. Tuma's two proper solo records, Hard Again and The River 1 2 3 4, are both HUGE all time aQ favorites, so we were pretty excited to hear about a brand new release, especially since we've been waiting patiently for almost 5 years!
Not For Nobody begins quite strangely, a super spare, lo-fi recording of barely there guitar, stretched out beneath reverb drenched childlike vocals, cooing and purring, a bit like a countrified Bjork, the sibilance stretched out into glistening shimmers, the melody, mournful and dreamy, bits of tinkling chimes, and muted ambient clatter, the whole thing sun dappled and soft focus, so strange and haunting, but so lovely and sublime.
The next track finds us on much more familiar ground, a loose tangle of steel string guitar, sounding like it could have come off one of the later Souled American records, but sans vocals, the melodies lyrical and lilting, couched in a thick layered backdrop of warm whir, sprinkled with tinkling bells and chimes, laced with bits of piano, somehow sparse and skeletal, but impossibly lush. Which is sort of Tuma's specialty, turning minimalism into maximalism, but without losing any of the former's hushed urgency or whispered intimacy.
The whole record is quite varied, but each track manages to sound like it couldn't be anywhere else, every one seamlessly leading into the next, a song suite, an album of cohesive musical pieces, not just a collection of songs. The third track, "Eloper", introduces what sounds like horns, for a haunting funereal march, a woozy fanfare that seems to slowly spread out, a simple pulse like rhythm beneath hazy streaks and deliberate minor key strum. The next track begins as a jaunty upper register steel string lullaby, giving way, part way through, to a languorous late afternoon sun dappled sprawl, slightly atonal, gorgeous and bleary eared. "New Joy" buries the guitar in a haze of whirring buzz and warm swirls of lush chords and muted feedback, very liturgical sounding, a dark ambient drift through some ancient crumbling cathedral, while "Rakes" begins as a simple stripped down halfspeed Appalachian hoedown, before transforming into a sea of sawing strings, of layered buzz and extended steel string drones.
The record finishes the way it began, with that ghostly childlike voice, the bits of spare guitar, the massive clouds of delay and reverb, that voice a wraith hovering above the web of subtle minor key guitar, the floorboards creaking, motes of dust tinkling like chimes in a soft evening breeze, creepy, sorrowful, and so completely gorgeous.
Tuma conjures a timeless magical mystery with his guitar. He plays the mysterious traveler, a wandering audio alchemist, turning notes and chords into gold, or rather, golden streaks of dusty memory and soft golden glimpses of some hidden and blurred otherworld. His are sounds to get lost in, to wrap around yourself like some cloak spun from gold thread, to hide under with a flashlight like a child, creating worlds of light and shadow, a sound at once mystical and enigmatic, warm and familiar, and truly truly sublime.
ATTENTION!! The first 100 copies come packaged in a gold on black, cardstock gatefold sleeve, housed in a special oversized handscreened 7" style outersleeve, black ink on metallic gold paper, each one hand numbered. We managed to get nearly 3/4 of that first 100, but the way things have been going these will probably not last long, so once we run out, you'll get the normal, slightly cheaper version (the innersleeve white on brown instead of gold and black, and without the oversized hand numbered outer sleeve).
MPEG Stream: "Nobody (River Of Tin)"
MPEG Stream: "Fishen"
MPEG Stream: "Eloper"
MPEG Stream: "Tiktaalik"

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ADAMS, JOHN LUTHER Red Arc / Blue Veil (Cold Blue Music) cd 14.98
We've always loved the blissful and beautiful work of John Luther Adams, one of the great American modern composers. His album In White Silence is a bonafide all time AQ favorite but truth is, Adams has plenty of other records that are equally worthy of our attention. Red Arc / Blue Veil blew us away the first time we heard it as it shows a much more intense side to the Alaskan composer then we were accustomed to. Yes, it's still stunningly crisp and beautiful, but there is a velocity and urgency to this work that struck us immediately. In some ways this is the darkest recording we've heard from Adams, yet within this music, there is still a shining mystical light beaming so brightly. Whether it's the dueling pianos in "Dark Waves" or the monumental bass drums pounding to the heavens in "Qilyuan" or the majestic vibes and keys that close out the record on the title track "Red Arc/Blue Veil", Adams has created a piece of music that demonstrates again that as a supposedly "academic" or "modern classical" composer, he's capable of creating some of the most beautiful and sublime sounds imaginable, regardless of genre.
MPEG Stream: "Red Arc/Blue Veil"
MPEG Stream: "Qilyuan"

ALTER EGO Why Not?! (Klang Elektronik) cd 16.98
Not to be confused with the Italian Alter Ego who collaborated with Philip Jeck and Gavin Bryars on the recent reinterpretation of Bryars' classic The Sinking Of The Titanic, although come to think of it, it might be pretty amazing to hear THESE guys interpret Bryars' super somber epic.
This Alter Ego is from Germany, and they tend to mine similar ground as folks like Justice and Daft Punk, that sort of high energy, dance floor destroying good time techno, lots of heavy buzzy synths, swooping squiggly melodies, bouncing infectious rhythms, fun and funny, goofy and a bit wild. Super playful and funky, but also pretty weird.
The opener sounds like a Basement Jaxx instrumental, super fuzzy and groovy, synths snarling all over the place, some awesome fuzzy melodies, but then out of nowhere the track breaks down into this weird stumbling percussive sounding rhythmic stutter, all strange pizzicato strings and arpeggiated beats, hard to explain, completely interrupts the flow, but sounds so perfect anyway, the band effortlessly slip back into, it, only to drop out and do that weird confusional breakdown a few more times. Which is precisely what makes this disc, and these guys so appealing.
All of the tracks begin with a similar template. Block rockin beats, fuzzy throbbing synths, woozy melodies, bits of dubstep, dancehall and techno, all wound up weirdly tangled electro / techno hybrids, but then things get all wonky, in a very good way, some tracks get all epic and majestic, the synths swelling into huge grandiose melodies, others fall apart into angular new wave freakouts, some sound like experimental synth jams, others end up super minimal, like some squiggly slightly tweaked take on the Kompakt sound.
On the surface, this stuff will totally hit the spot for anyone into any of the abovementioned bands, folks who want to just hit the dancefloor and get totally lost. But for those of us with an aversion to the dancefloor, but who still dig dance music, this shit is thick and heavy, layered and off kilter, weird and cool and just a bit fucked, without ever losing its groove.
MPEG Stream: "Why Not?!"
MPEG Stream: "Gary"
MPEG Stream: "Fuckingham Palace"

ARCADE AMBIANCE '83 (GDG) cd-r 12.98
Here's the 2nd volume in this cd-r series -- we highlighted volume one, Arcade Ambience '81, last time around. Remember 1983? Remember the video arcade games that were popular that year? The '83 disc will refresh your memory. Burgertime, Dig Dug, Elevator Action, Galaga, Joust, Mario Bros., Millipede, Moon Patrol, Ms. Pacman, Pengo, Pole Position, Qbert, Robotron, Sinistar, Stargate, Time Pilot, Track & Field, Tron, Zaxxon, and more, all make appearances on this simulated arcade field recording soundscape. You'll be listening to it, and be like, oh yeah, I remember that game!, as a simple combination of sounds strikes a chord deep within your brain somewhere -- like, oh crap, here comes Sinistar! or the pesky dragon from Joust!
If you aren't an arcade aficionado (or even if you are), this disc is basically an insane, extremely dense collage of electronic bleeps and bloops, zaps and braps, a bit like being trapped in a fierce sci-fi space battle, but for the snippets of music and the clang of coins dropped into machines... in other words, the general ambience of a bustling video game palace at the height of the arcade era. Our review of the '81 volume explains that while these are not actual field recordings, but instead modern-day, computer-aided recreations, these discs certainly sound convincing. A well-crafted nostalgia trip for video gamers, and also an interesting item for fans of unique environmental sounds!
NB. We're not listing the '86 cd-r quite yet 'cause some of the copies we got were bad burns, unfortunately, and we've got to test out our entire stock for glitches... if you already bought one from us, check and see if towards the things get sort of choppy and distorted? Not saying that doesn't sound cool, but it doesn't sound like any video arcade we've ever been in, except maybe on drugs (just kidding). Let us know if you've got a defective disc and we'll see about getting replacements from the label.
MPEG Stream: "track 1"
MPEG Stream: "track 8"

AVSOLUTIZED Den Svarta Vandans Genealogi (Neinsphere) cd 14.98
We're always on the lookout for more weird black metal. But sometimes it just finds us. We got an email from a mysterious band from Japan called Avsolutized. Like most black metal groups, they were exceedingly polite, and just very much wanted us to listen to their music. So we did, and holy shit did these guys blow us away. They've been a band for almost 12 years now, and this is their very first release, and it's only FIVE songs! But you know what, it doesn't even matter. We would gladly wait another 12 years for 5 more songs like this. It's that good. That black and freaked out and gloriously fucked up. Fans of weirdo black metal and outsider grimness NEED this.
The first track is an ambient intro, all mournful guitar, and moody drones, but with soaring operatic vocals over the top.
When the first proper song kicks in, the band buzzes and pounds, a looped repetitive riff, but then the vocals, beginning as a guttural growl and quickly sliding up to an eighties metal wail, and back again, it's dizzying. The song switches to half time, the vocals transform back into a rasp, but again, explode into falsetto shrieks. Fucking brilliant. And the music underneath is the perfect support, murky and washed out, buzzy and dense, looped and hypnotic, even without the vocals, we'd be way into it, super depressive black buzz, but the vocals just transform it into something totally unique and pretty insane sounding.
One of the 5 songs is a Setherial cover weirdly enough, and they do it pretty straight, maybe upping the buzz ante, filtering it through their own cracked sound, furious and thick and relentless, they sort of out-Setherial Setherial, and then there's those vocals, here more of a traditional black shriek, but still pretty impressive. A brief folky interlude leads to the records closer, a nearly 10 minute black blowout. Loping and buzzy, totally epic, the riffing majestic and mournful, and the vocals, growling out a low demonic rumble, spitting out hellish black rasps, and of course shrieking wildly, until the track breaks down into an ambient interlude, the vocals transformed into a throaty croon, and then quickly to a wild banshee wail. Not to make too much of the vocals, cuz the music here is excellent, some of the best grim black buzz we've heard, but when it's all tangled up with the convoluted compositions and bizarre vocals, it turns what would have been just a killer black metal record into a freaked out fucked up blackened classic.
MPEG Stream: "An Everlasting Circulation Of Void"
MPEG Stream: "Utan Dod..."

BAD ACID Tab 6 dvd / cd-r / magazine 29.00
Okay drug rock freeks, space rock explorers, doomlords, sludge demons, prog obsessives, metal maniacs, stoner dudes, noise nerds, and basically most of the other folks who read this here aQ list, Bad Acid is the magazine for you. And calling Bad Acid a magazine is a bit of a misnomer. It's more of a multimedia spacemetaldoomprogsludgenoise experience. You think we're exaggerating? A seventy minute dvd, an ELEVEN HOUR mp3 audio disc, a nearly two hour long label sampler, AND a 60 page booklet/magazine packed with liner notes, articles and interviews.
Packed with SO many aQ favorites, but just as many new bands we'd never heard, a bunch who could very well turn into new favorites. We've barely scratched the surface, since if we spent 14 hours on each review, the list would be, oh, about 5 items long. But from what we've heard / seen / watched so far, this latest issue of Bad Acid is pretty essential.
The dvd first, a series of music videos, film excerpts and slide shows, we were mostly excited about the scenes from an Antonius Rex movie, Antonius Rex being the dude from JACULA!! Tripped out and satanic and appropriately what-the-fuck. Some killer live footage of doom mongers Ogre, a killer art gallery slide show from the Malleus artist collective, featuring an awesome soundtrack from Morkobot, a Northwinds video, and then some more obscure stuff, Manatees tour video, Wicked Minds video, King Suffy Generator video, Lento live footage and tons more. All woven together by some super creepy animated menus.
Then there's the cd-r, featuring 11 hours of mp3's from Moss, Danava, White Hills, Barbara, Hey Colossus, Orange Sunshine, Capricorns, Khlyst, Acid King, Heresi, Raw Radar War, Fire Witch, Taint, Orange Goblin, Shinjuku Thief, Litmus and those are just the bands we know and already dig. 57 bands total, 102 tracks, tons of new bands to check out and discover. Also included is a label sampler focusing on the Bone Structure cd-r label, whose releases run the gamut from raw black metal, to buzzing industrial noise, to black ambient to grinding industrial weirdness. We actually have some BS stuff on the way, to be reviewed on the list soon, but this is a killer way to check out tons of stuff on the label.
And then there's the actual magazine component, with notes on each of the bands on the cd-r, a feature on each of the bands on the dvd, tons of info about Bone Structure and the bands on the label, as well as interviews with Fire Witch, Taint, Orange Goblin, and probably most exciting of all Alan Dubin, formerly of Khanate, talking about his new band Gnaw, which features folks from Burning Witch, Thorr's Hammer, Atavist, Enos Slaughter and Ike Yard(!). Man, we can't wait to hear that.
All of the above packaged in a standard dvd style case, with killer cover art from the Malleus Rock Art Lab. A bit pricey due to the weak dollar and the expensive overseas shipping, but pretty well worth it.

BEACH HOUSE Devotion (Carpark) cd 13.98
Beach House's debut from a couple years ago won a special place in our hearts, so ever since we've been very anxious for this follow-up. We can't think of anyone these days who is doing warm and fuzzy melancholic pop better than Beach House.
Devotion flows perfectly from start to finish. It's the kind of record you want to play on repeat all day as you lay in bed with the one you love or lament the one you lost. These songs capture that gray soft line between longing and remembrance with a somber elegance that recalls Francoise Hardy's La Question and taps into the more subdued moments of Quixotic and White Magic. While many folks have taken a stab at Daniel Johnston songs in recent years, Beach House's version of "Some Things Last (A Long Time)" captures its devastating yet bittersweet heart. With hints of reverb, intoxicating vocal melodies and astute subtlety, Beach House has made an album that wraps you in a warm soft glow, as you bask in a golden breeze, totally hitting the spot and making every day feels like Sunday. So nice!
MPEG Stream: "Turtle Island"
MPEG Stream: "Home Again"

BEHEMOTHAUR Darkcrystal (200mg) cd-r 8.98
It's funny that we mentioned the Dead C in describing the last blackened missive from the mysterious outfit known as Behemothaur, since we later discovered that there was in fact a definite New Zealand noise rock connection. Some very well know dudes from some very well known NZ outfits (well, at least around here) apparently spend their nights lurking in caves, and in dark woods, performing unholy blacknoise rituals, the latest of which is presented here in all it's filthy, hellish buzzing droning noisedrenched glory.
While Behmeothaur is presented as a sort of outsider black metal project, they really hew closer to good old noise rock, or some sort of post industrial freerock. The darker dronier tracks sound a lot like the various members musical day jobs, soundscapes of rumbles and whirs, shimmering and throbbing expanses of crumbling low end, the sound that has become ubiquitous among cd-r labels. That said, these guys do add some blackness, some serious grimnity, their own take on the abstract drone is appropriately dense and heavy.
Then there's the other side of the band, their more 'rock' side, more abstractly 'metal', and this is where the bands NZ noise lineage really shows. Huge grinding slabs of blown out, slightly blackened lurching noise rock, the guitars ugly filthy squalls, the bass a rib cage rattling throb, the drums blown out and chaotic, the entire sound so in the red, the production sounds like another instrument, the Dead C are of course an obvious comparison, so is Wolf Eyes, a massive crumbling noisy doomy dirge.
The band do spit out a brief blast of buzzing blackness near the end of the disc, but even then it's so doused in fuzz and hiss the fidelity is so low, that again it ends up sounding like some super obscure nineties noiserock outfit, albeit with some definite blackened tendencies.
Awesome stuff, just fair warning to black metallers to be prepared for some abstract noise, but the rest of you, who are into all that sort of cd-r style droning and bashing and buzzing, this will obviously, and summarily kick your ass.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES! Packaged in a cool oversized screenprinted cardstock sleeve, with creepy red ink blood splatters all over the front, inside a 12 page printed black and white booklet packed with creepy images and some liner notes.
MPEG Stream: "Deadchant I"
MPEG Stream: "Thenameofthesilenthorizon"

BISHOP, RICHARD SIR God Damn Religion (Locust) dvd+cd 21.00
Those surviving Sun City Girls are always up to something. Travelling the world, probably. But also releasing stuff. Alan Bishop regularly wows us with amazing field recordings on his Sublime Frequencies label. In the case of "Sir" Richard Bishop we tend to expect his usual guitar improv ragadelica. But what about... a motion picture!?! That's what we have here, a dvd disc containing director SRB's half hour EPIC cinematic bad trip entitled God Damn Religion. It's a colorful, kaleidoscopic, sometimes stroboscopic collage of imagery drawn from the darker side of the human religious experience from around the world, ancient and modern, western and "primitive"... Pretty intense stuff. Frightening, frenzied. An overwhelming procession of sex and violence, hellish tortures and ribald pleasures. Demons and devils. Multilimbed Hindu gods and fallen Christian angels. Suffering sinners. Savage rites. All these gratuitous graphics crammed together like a flip book succession of details from Sun City Girls album covers. A segment (one of many) devoted to depictions of leering, long-tongued devils in the European tradition is followed by footage from a shrine of overgrown sculptural phalluses in Bangkok... Elsewhere SRB drops in scenes of witches and devils cavorting taken from the '20s silent film Haxan, as well as examples of "Buddhist torture paintings" he photographed in Southeast Asia.
We'd guess, rated R. Definitely not for kids, epileptics, or the impressionably Christian. The rest of us should find it quite fascinating, maybe even hypnotic. Maybe you'd even GET religion after being exposed to this, though presumably the idea is to make you sick of it. It's certainly a psychedelic visual experience, like a rapid fire glimpse into the Sun City Girls' graphic archives, and is excellently edited. The soundtrack music by SRB is of course an effective component too...
And in fact as a bonus, the first edition of this dvd comes with an extra disc, a cd version of the previously vinyl-only 2006 SRB album Elektronika Demonika, which is as scary as it sounds, four long tracks of claustrophobic ethno-industrial rhythmic, droney weirdness!! Pretty trippy, a funhouse flying saucer of a noisefest that itself would likely twist your mind even without the disturbing, sexually and demonically-charged visuals that it accompanies as a portion of the soundtrack to the God Damn Religion dvd...
MPEG Stream: "track 1"
MPEG Stream: "track 3"

BOSCOE s/t (Numero Group / Asterisk) cd 14.98
The more we think about it here at aQ, the more we can see the similarities between the regional funk and soul scenes of the late '60s/early '70s and the regional punk and hardcore scenes of the early '80s. Take, for example, what Kwame Steve Cobb -- the man propelling this fiery slab of ultra-rare '70s heavy, funky soul from behind the drum kit -- has to say about Boscoe: "Our intent was to play music that would inform and inspire our community, speak to the unspoken anger most folks felt at that time, and to confront those who chose to escape the realities in the clubs and bars we played." Don't even try to tell us that's not some serious Ian MacKaye level P-U-N-K right there!
Just like their skinny white comrades would do a decade later, Boscoe took the means of production into their own hands, set aside any aspirations for mainstream success, and DIYed the heck out of their one and only studio effort, this self-titled release now lovingly and painstakingly reissued via the Numero Group's Asterisk imprint, the cd in a mini-lp style gatefold sleeve. Perhaps due mostly to its obscurity, this record has been heralded as a kind of holy grail of the same late '60s South Side of Chicago that also included heavyweights like Philip Cohran, Sun Ra, and the Art Ensemble of Chicago; that association might be more than a bit misleading if you're hoping to find the kind of ensemble-based jazz improvisation that characterizes those other groups. However, what this record does share is the same social consciousness and community focus that made records like The Malcolm X Memorial (a record so nice we listed it twice... lists 262 and 281) not just essential musical documents, but also essential social and political documents.
Boscoe is chock full of social commentary (drugs, violence, racism, being poor and black in America) layered over dense funk grooves, snaking bass lines, and intricate horn arrangements, with both the ballads and the scorchers being marked by a similar burning intensity. While the mythology and hyperbole surrounding this long-in-the-making reissue might set some listeners up for disappointment, the fact remains that this record is more than thrilling enough to transcend the novelty of being a rediscovered, long-lost obscurity -- something that very few reissues of the "greatest album you've never heard"-type manage to do. Listen to it with open ears, hear it for what it is, and you'll find a record full of hits that could've been, had they only been toned down, tightened up and fed through the cookie-cutter press of the mainstream record industry. What makes this record worth serious consideration is that Boscoe chose to do exactly the opposite -- leaving behind a single document that is raw, unpolished, ambitious and exactly what the band wanted it to be.
MPEG Stream: "Writin' On The Wall"
MPEG Stream: "If I Had My Way"

BOSCOE s/t (Numero Group) lp 15.98
The more we think about it here at aQ, the more we can see the similarities between the regional funk and soul scenes of the late '60s/early '70s and the regional punk and hardcore scenes of the early '80s. Take, for example, what Kwame Steve Cobb -- the man propelling this fiery slab of ultra-rare '70s heavy, funky soul from behind the drum kit -- has to say about Boscoe: "Our intent was to play music that would inform and inspire our community, speak to the unspoken anger most folks felt at that time, and to confront those who chose to escape the realities in the clubs and bars we played." Don't even try to tell us that's not some serious Ian MacKaye level P-U-N-K right there!
Just like their skinny white comrades would do a decade later, Boscoe took the means of production into their own hands, set aside any aspirations for mainstream success, and DIYed the heck out of their one and only studio effort, this self-titled release now lovingly and painstakingly reissued via the Numero Group's Asterisk imprint, the cd in a mini-lp style gatefold sleeve. Perhaps due mostly to its obscurity, this record has been heralded as a kind of holy grail of the same late '60s South Side of Chicago that also included heavyweights like Philip Cohran, Sun Ra, and the Art Ensemble of Chicago; that association might be more than a bit misleading if you're hoping to find the kind of ensemble-based jazz improvisation that characterizes those other groups. However, what this record does share is the same social consciousness and community focus that made records like The Malcolm X Memorial (a record so nice we listed it twice... lists 262 and 281) not just essential musical documents, but also essential social and political documents.
Boscoe is chock full of social commentary (drugs, violence, racism, being poor and black in America) layered over dense funk grooves, snaking bass lines, and intricate horn arrangements, with both the ballads and the scorchers being marked by a similar burning intensity. While the mythology and hyperbole surrounding this long-in-the-making reissue might set some listeners up for disappointment, the fact remains that this record is more than thrilling enough to transcend the novelty of being a rediscovered, long-lost obscurity -- something that very few reissues of the "greatest album you've never heard"-type manage to do. Listen to it with open ears, hear it for what it is, and you'll find a record full of hits that could've been, had they only been toned down, tightened up and fed through the cookie-cutter press of the mainstream record industry. What makes this record worth serious consideration is that Boscoe chose to do exactly the opposite -- leaving behind a single document that is raw, unpolished, ambitious and exactly what the band wanted it to be.
MPEG Stream: "Writin' On The Wall"
MPEG Stream: "If I Had My Way"

CHERRY, DON Tibet (Piccadilly) lp 12.98
No one can debate that Don Cherry is a jazz legend. A total pioneer, playing with pretty much every important figure from the fifties until the mid nineties when he passed away. But beyond being an unbelievable player, an unbeatable sideman, and an amazing composer, he also became obsessed with folk music, and various musics from all over the world, incorporating those sounds into his compositions, turning his jazz into some wild avant world jazz, tribal and psychedelic, hypnotic and complex, ethereal and far out, Cherry's sound changed and mutated on a regular basis, as he discovered Indian ragas, Japanese temple music, Southeast Asian gamelan music, Buddhist chants, it all became a part of his music, and made him one of the most unique voices in jazz.
We raved about Cherry's 1971 Orient record a while back, a totally fantastical and far out free jazz exploration that incorporated No Neck style tribal free rock, Santana-ish rock grooves, and bits of psychedelia, to make for a clattery, droney noisy free jazz classic.
Tibet came about 10 years later, but manages to be just as far out. Not as urgent or chaotic or 'free', Tibet was much more of a world jazz record, with Cherry utilizing lots of Gamelan, African instrumentation and Eastern melody.
The opener is all gamelan, flurries of percussion whipped into a dense dizzying swirl, a strange mix of gamelan, Eastern melodies, and some distinctly African sounds, as well as a bunch of clatter that would be right at home on a No Neck record. The following track is mostly tinkling piano, but over the top, a reed instrument wails and buzzes out a mesmerizing snake charmer melody, it sounds a bit like a zorna, the melody locked in step with the piano, the two instruments engaged in a gorgeously hypnotic dance.
The next track is a killer, super dense and aggressive, a fiery and fierce piano workout, the low keys pounded and ringing out, a thick backdrop for the tinkling spray of high notes, all looped into an incredibly hypnotic groove, sounding a lot like a darker, more intense Lubomyr Melnyk.
The flipside begins with more Eastern melodies, a framework of tribal percussion, over the top vocals and horns (that sounds like synthesizers) drone and buzz, the sound very raga like, wild and loose, spirited and free, sounds like something you'd hear on a Sublime Frequencies comp, which makes sense as these sounds are so indebted to musics both Asian and African. The following track is all tinkling percussion, chimes and bells, long drawn out tones on some sort of horn, all very meditative and spiritual, with monk like chants woven into the fluttering field of shimmer and tinkle. Finally the record finishes with what sounds like straight ahead gamelan, subtle and serene, a muted percussive coda to a seriously expansive sonic travelogue.
There's a dearth of notes, no players, no instrumentation, but it hardly matters as the music more than speaks for itself.

CINDYTALK Camoflage Heart (Wheesht / Scratch) cd 22.00
Longtime regular aQ customer Joshua Maremont commented that Cindytalk's Camoflage Heart is a record which was only really meant for about 30 people. Not that only 30 copies of this record were released, or that it is so terminally obscure and willfully difficult that it by design has a marketing ceiling of an elite few. What he's on about is that Camoflage Heart is such a personal document of self-realized torment, pain, and sorrow that when Cindytalk embarked on the project, it's hard to imagine that they had any delusions about the intensity of this album and the potential for these songs to alienate beyond a limited few.
At the helm of Cindytalk is transgendered vocalist Gordon Sharp, who to this day is probably still best known as one of the multitude of vocalists who appeared in This Mortal Coil. In many ways, Sharp is the masculine equal to the Cocteau Twins' Liz Fraser in delivering expressionist falsettos, trills, and banshee wails in an eerie, yet heavenly fashion. He's one of those few vocalists who can make the lyrics embody their content by shaping the words into emotionally charged sound. In fact, Sharp and Fraser had come together for a duet back during the Cocteau Twins' Peel Sessions of 1983. In his 4AD lineage, Gordon Sharp's first band was the criminally overlooked punk-glam ensemble The Freeze, where his Marc Bolan strut matched the nightmarish lyrics on top of some truly fantastic Bowie / Buzzcocks sparkplug riffs. Sharp, alongside fellow Freeze band members John Byrne and David Clancey, found shortcomings in the glam punk agenda, and sought a wholly new direction that became Cindytalk.
While undeniably dark and theatrical, Cindytalk cannot be pigeonholed as an '80s goth band, even in comparison to such off-kilter groups like The Virgin Prunes, Princess Tinymeat, or Sex Gang Children. Camoflage Heart was Cindytalk's first album and originally came out in 1984; and it's an album like those This Heat albums which is quite unique in terms of production and aesthetic. The album opens with the militant drum machine of "It's Luxury" setting the stage for an explosion from a monotone guitar riff, coated in amplifier grit, distortion, and detuned heaviness that comes across as a mix between late-'80s Skullflower and The Cure's Pornography. At this moment, Sharp's voice also erupts into the mix crooning with a downtrod beauty to this industrial dirge, spitting and swooning at the same time. The next track "Instinct (Back To Sense)" is more of an ambient interlude with distant heartbeat rhythms, haunted with impressionist piano trickles and Sharp's siren song buried between an atmosphere of smoke and mirror. Two more explosive tracks -- "Under Glass" (featuring Mick Harvey from the Birthday Party for a disjointed stutter of abject rock) and "Memories of Skin and Snow" -- are examples of loud / quiet / loud dynamics, later embraced by the likes of Slint and Mogwai to equally profound effect. "Everybody Is Christ" is often viewed as the pinnacle of Camoflage Heart with its harsh arppegiation of electronics cast against Sharp's heavenly voice. Soon after, the album disintegrates in a cascade of delicate piano, voice, and grim drones.
As Cindytalk had suffered through the fate of several record companies going out of business (first Midnight Records then World Serpent), their work might have been forgotten had it not been for this reissue. Thankfully, that oversight can now be remedies with this long overdue reissue.
MPEG Stream: "It's Luxury"
MPEG Stream: "Memories Of Skin And Snow"
MPEG Stream: "Everybody Is Christ"

CINDYTALK In This World (Wheesht / Scratch) cd 22.00
So the rumor goes that Gordon Sharp was invited to join Duran Duran after Sharp dissolved his Edinburgh glam-punk band The Freeze in the late '70s. He turned them down. Elizabeth Fraser and Robin Guthrie also put out the request for Sharp to join the Cocteau Twins. After a brief stint accompanying the Cocteau Twins for a Peel Session in 1982 and a guest spot on This Mortal Coil's It'll End In Tears, he opted for his own project -- the obscure, yet majestic Cindytalk.
In This World is an opus in every sense of the word. Originally, In This World came out in 1988 as two separate albums under the same name, each with slightly different artwork. One album, a masterpiece of abject post-punk that in all honesty is the closest parallel to Swans' Children Of God; the other, a delicate ambient construct of melancholy piano scarred with surface noice prognosticating pretty much everything that Type Records has released (e.g Machinefabriek, Jasper TX, etc.). It's very good thing that both of these albums have been repackaged into one self-contained object, as the only half of In This World that seemed to be floating around was the piano-laced ambient one. As good as that half is, you need the grit and dirge of its companion album to complete Cindytalk's ideas of grand dualities: heaven / hell, pleasure / pain, holiness / transgression, etc.
While billed by Sharp as the 'disgusting' part of the In This World diptych, the first half begins with a lovely tonefloat of scratched violin drones and painterly piano notes. Yet, with the crushing rhythm and noise attack of "Janey's Love," Sharp does not disappoint with his disgusting tag. This is a monstrous industrial dirge with huge monotone slabs of distortion and atonal drones counterpointing Sharp's soaring falsetto. The punk poet Kathy Acker supplies a brief spoken word interlude as the coda to this incendiary number. Immediately hereafter, Cindytalk continue their turgid rhythmic marches with an angular distorted rhythm, slippery bassline mired in audio rust, and twin guitars spitting acid, fire, and brimstone on such tracks as "Gift Of A Knife" and "Circle Of Shit." As the first half of the album progresses, the songs steadily disintegrate as rhythm, song structure, and noise all collapse into a blur of smeared grey that is eerily reflective of William Basinski's Disintegration Loops. The piano which opened In This World becomes the dominant sound in Cindytalk's soundscapes, also marking the delineation between the two halves of In This World. Yes, this is the beautiful side of Cindytalk, coated in ash, snow, bruises, and rust. Gordon Sharp's piano playing comes from Brian Eno's Thursday Afternoon, which in turn came from Erik Satie; and that impressionist sentiment continues forward amidst subterranean drones and field recordings of barren spaces. Sharp's voice is mostly absent from these tracks, although the eponymous finale to the album showcases one of Sharp's most emotive croons. They really don't make albums like this any more, with such attention to detail and dynamics between rage and beauty.
Fortunately, both of these records were concise enough that they could both fit onto one CD; and if you've not had the opportunity to hear Cindytalk, please do not let this album and its predecessor Camoflage Heart pass you by!
MPEG Stream: "Janey's Love"
MPEG Stream: "Circle Of Shit"
MPEG Stream: "The Beginning Of Wisdom"
MPEG Stream: "Sight After Sight"

DANAVA Unonou (Kemado) cd 13.98
A rockin' return (of course!) from Portland's finest, the mighty Danava. Retro stoner rock melodic metallic garage prog psych heaviness. Whew that's a mouthful. What did we say about 'em when reviewing their recent 7"? "A band whose ripping '70s style metallic power trio action is augmented by a dusting of trippy space rock synthesizer soundz from fourth member Rockwell."
The deal with Danava is that, bottom line, they rip. Metal or indie or retro or hipster or whatever, we don't really care, we just know that they obviously love the same sort of '70s prog excess we dig (a la Sabbath's Sabotage), with flamboyant keyboard flourishes (check out the last minute of "Where Beauty And Terror Dance" ferinstance), write actual songs, sing 'em too, and totally kick ass live. Maybe that's not much to ask from a band, but these days, such real deal rock n' roll acts are few and far between. Likewise with kick ass albums like this one. Who else might we cite? Birds Of Avalon are one of 'em. Also recent Danava tour mates Witchcraft. And Oakland's Drunk Horse (imagine them in cahoots with SF's Crime In Choir perhaps, to approach the boogie prog shred you get with Danava).
Unonou brings fans another seven songs sprung from the bulging collective Danava forehead, in the manner to which we have become accustomed. Which means, they feature virtuosic guitar (and bass) solo action, frenzied drumming, Ozzish vocals (very much so, up to and including some snippets of the lyrics), and the aforementioned eccentric electronic embellishments. Plus, this time 'round, there's a frickin' horn section throwing down in several songs! The album ends with the 13+ minute "Mind Gone Separate Ways", wherein the band manage to kick out the jams whilst making melodic space rock fusion, wow. Yep Unonou has got its share of sinister moodiness and spaceouts but consists mostly of REALLY energetic rollercoaster, uh, rippage (to use that term once more). Danava's '70s era references/influences would seem to include proggy Black Sabbath, early Blue Oyster Cult, lashings of Gobin (like the disco-ish groove that starts off "The Emerald Snow Of Sleep"), very early Alice Cooper, maybe even Jobraith... If that sounds good to you, get this, and definitely don't miss 'em live whenever that chance presents itself.
(Vinyl coming soon, btw.)
MPEG Stream: "Where Beauty And Terror Dance"
MPEG Stream: "Spinning Temple Shifting"

FLACK, ROBERTA First Take (Atlantic) cd 10.98
This is Roberta Flack's debut from 1969 and it's not only one of the best soul debuts of all time but one of our all-time favorite records. Many of us didn't even know there had been a cd version of this, but were excited to discover there was considering we've worn out our cherished lp versions, which we've cherished and always kept close to our turntable, even amongst the piles of our ever growing record collections.
But since there is indeed a cd version (not new or nothin') we had to take a moment to rave about it. First Take is an album brewing with such strong emotional weight, when Roberta sings it she means it, and while the word 'soul' has been reduced to a meaningless tag-name of a genre this reminds us what true soul is really all about. Elegant and moody string and horn arrangements by William Fischer, impeccable playing from a band that included the amazing Ron Carter on bass, and the stunning and often covered album opener "Compared To What" penned for Roberta by the enigmatic Gene (Eugene) McDaniels. First Take shares a special place next to records like Sam Cooke's Night Beat, Nina Simone's High Priestess Of Soul and Roy Orbison's In Dreams, another record that you can turn to time after time when you really need to check in with sounds that are filled with honesty and core conviction. There is no doubt that it's this record that has influenced everyone from Cat Power to Erykah Badu. First Take is as sexy as it is spiritual. Raw and unpolished yet so sensual and the closest thing you can get to trying to find any real peace of mind in this world. Absolutely recommended, a record that will always be close to our hearts!
MPEG Stream: "Compared To What"
MPEG Stream: "Tryin' Time"
MPEG Stream: "Angelitos Negros"

GARGOTHERON Black Metal Supreme (200mg) cd-r 9.98
Another killer release from the 200mg label, this one a seriously grim slab of raw primitive black metal from of all places, Arizona. Just to make sure you know where this blackness hails from, the opening track begins with a seriously desert-y intro, all rattlesnake rattles and howling coyotes, chirping crickets and croaking frogs, while all around swirl haunting black rumbles and a growling monstrous like demonic rasp, a distant pulse beats like a black heart, until the band finally kicks in. Suddenly we're in a swirling squall of ultra raw buzz and thrash. Think Bone Awl, Ildjarn, Zarach'Baal'Tharagh, the guitars furiously buzzing, the drums spastic and hyperkinetic and way up in the mix, giving the music at times, a Lightning Bolt / Ruins vibe. Imagine a black metal Ruins, or Brian Chippendale drumming for Bone Awl.
The tracks are separated by brief ambient interludes filled with random clatter and amp buzz, room noise and tape hiss, it's weird, most bands unfurl some weird creepy drones as interludes, but here it sounds like the band just kept the tape running between tracks, while they adjusted, tuned, futzed around, but weirdly enough it has a similarly ominous effect.
The songs though, exhaustingly relentless, furiously buzzy, insanely fast and thrashing, a snarling gnarled mass of noise drenched complex mathy blackness, that spends as much time locked into looped sounding repetitive riffing as it does spazzing out. What else can we say, if we didn't have you at "Lightning Bolt meets Bone Awl" then we give up. Needless to say, fucking awesome.
LIMITED TO 106 COPIES! Packaged in a cool oversized screenprinted cardstock booklet, inside a 12 page printed black and white booklet with lyrics and stark images of forests and mountains, the whole thing held between two pieces of cardboard, the front printed with the band name and record title, all tied up with rough twine.
MPEG Stream: "Enter Into The Necrowash Of Darkness"
MPEG Stream: "Forest Of Grimness In The Necro-Desert"

GAZHEART (RITA ACKERMAN / DAVE NUSS) s/t (Locust) lp 23.00
A gorgeous and mysterious one sided lp from GazHeart, a duo made up of artist Rita Ackerman, and No Neck Blues Band's Dave Nuss. The two played together in Angelblood as well, but these recordings were made after the breakup of that band, on the duo's annual trip to visit Ackerman's family in Budapest. During late nights in the backyard, with Nuss beating on coffee cans and broken bottles, Ackerman sang lyrics she had created using automatic, unmeditated writing. The results are beautiful, innocent, playful, haunting and very mysterious.
This consists of a series of short tracks, each with a slightly different tribal rhythmic component beneath Ackerman's vocals, which range from ghostly chantlike recitations, to sweet cooing, to wild wailing. The record drifts from tripped out FX drenched clang and clank beneath childlike gurgling, to campfire handdrums and sweetly almost whispered vocals, to hypnotic almost looped sounding tribal drums tangled up with breathy ethereal hum, to Casio style drum machine pitted against manic vocalizing and buzzy synth melodies, to the final track, the percussion super abstract, with chimes and bells, the vocals sung by a little girl, very cute and innocent, but also quite haunting.
Fans of Deerhoof, OOIOO, Tenniscoats and obviously No Neck and Angelblood will definitely dig.
Pressed on 180 gram vinyl. Housed in a thick sleeve, with Ackerman drawings on both sides, each the opposite/negative of the other, printed on nice thick paper, the lp is one sides, the flipside has an original Ackerman etching. Cool.

GRAVEYARD s/t (Tee Pee) cd 13.98
When we tell you there's a band from Sweden, a bunch of longhairs who look liked they just stepped out of 1973, playing heavy, psychedelic, blues-based rock n' roll with sinister, occult themes, who do you think we're talking about? And then what if we tell you, nooooo they're not Witchcraft. And not Burning Saviours or Dead Man either. Meet another excellent Swedish stoner-doom outfit, Graveyard, who sound something like Witchcraft meets Monster Magnet. The vocals are very Wyndorf (with some hints of ol' Glenn Danzig too).
Unlike Witchcraft, and the first two Burning Saviours albums, Graveyard probably wouldn't entirely fool anyone told this was allegedly a long-lost '70s proto-metal gem. Not that it sounds modern, but it does sound like they've heard their share of '90s stoner rock (the singer also sometimes reminds us of John Garcia from Kyuss). And then there's the aforementioned Monster Magnetism. Nothing we don't like, though! Perhaps you remember another band of Swedes, heavy psych throwbacks Roachpowder? Graveyard are in that tradition, and if there's one thing that Swedish bands can do, is uphold tradition! Whether it be with the warm, analog-recorded guitar tones, dark riffs that run from Sabbath to Samhain, and the general bewitched and bellbottomed vibe, Graveyard have got the goods.
MPEG Stream: "Evil Ways"
MPEG Stream: "Don't Take Us For Fools"

HALF MAKESHIFT Final (Small Doses) cd-r 7.98
We mention elsewhere on this list, about the strange viral spread of underground bands via cd-r labels. One super hyped release is all it takes, suddenly more releases begin popping up on all the other usual cd-r labels. Thankfully this usually happens to bands who deserve it, and who we can't get enough of, so more releases in that instance is definitely good news.
Such is the case with Half Makeshift, who actually started out with some proper full length cd releases, before they began dabbling in limited cd-r releases. We've listed two of their discs so far, both fantastic, dark and heavy, dense and thick, ominous and intense. Much heavier and more aggressive than your typical cd-r floorcore fare.
And 'they' is actually a 'he', he being Nathan Michael, who takes sounds low and slow, and assembles them into strangely propulsive downtuned dirges, hovering sonically somewhere between the glacial sludge of SUNNO))) and the muted minimal shimmer of folks like Aidan Baker or Jonathan Coleclough.
On Final, Michael explores a bit of both. The opener is a fierce plodding lurch, slowed way down to an almost crawl, the beats are big and effected, but they are buried in the mix, and pitched down, above the beats, guitars grind woozily and swirl weightlessly, it almost sounds like a Nadja 45 spinning at 33, or Jesu slowed way dooooooooown. A blissed out post industrial shoegazey doom, more pretty than heavy, but still shot through with bits of sharp riffage and thick crunch, but by the end, the track has transformed into a muted minor key drift, soft and serene. The second track takes the end of the first and stretches it out into a whole track of whispered whir and warm chordal swells.
The third track of four begins with piano, processed and spun backwards, a dreamily dizzy bit of swell and swoop, that continues throughout the whole track, at one point passing through thick black clouds of low end rumble, before emerging on the other side spare and sparse and hovering in an austere wide open space.
The final track, the title track, appropriately called "Final", is another piano driven jam, more moody and murky, a funereal dirge, a somber musical death march, the sounds changing timbre and tone subtly, the various notes wrapped in effects and slipped back into the melodies, gorgeously forlorn and sweetly sinister.
Like all Small Doses discs, incredible packaging, two different colored and textured paper rectangles, glued together and then folded to create a super striking two tone layered sleeve, printed with gorgeous austere photos, each copy hand numbered. LIMITED TO 151 COPIES!
MPEG Stream: "The First And Second Passing"
MPEG Stream: "Final"

HOPKINS, CLUTCHY Life Of Clutchy Hopkins (Mislead Children) cd 13.98
The rumors are flying. Well, at least on all the underground hip-hop blogs they are. Who is Clutchy Hopkins? Could he really be this Ted Kaczynski type hermit living in a cave somewhere out in the Mojave Desert but who perhaps sometime in the '80s recorded these recently discovered and amazing instrumental funk-jazz tracks? And then came out of hiding briefly to put a new record out on Ubiquity only to then disappear once more? Seems doubtful. Details are shady at best. No one has really seen him, except for some less than trustworthy sources. There are only some old photographs of him looking like some serious Moondog cave hippie, like if Gnarls Barkley was an actual person maybe. It's an interesting back story which adds an exciting twist to the origins of these killer tracks, but would they be less killer if the rumors going around were true that maybe this is in fact an alias band project for either Money Mark, Madlib, Cut Chemist, or DJ Shadow? (Our guess? Kid Loco. Seems like he's been in a cave for awhile.) It shouldn't matter, because this shit is good. And who wouldn't rather believe we live in a world where cave-dwelling hermits could make such awesome grooves. Originally released in 2005, it has 12 untitled tracks ranging from flute groovers, and spy chases to strange percussive interludes. We will review the Ubiquity release on a later list, as this one here we like a bit better and want to make it available to you before it, like Clutchy, disappears into the ether.
MPEG Stream: "3:02"
MPEG Stream: "2:07"
MPEG Stream: "3:24"

HOPKINS, CLUTCHY Life Of Clutchy Hopkins (Mislead Children) lp 14.98
The rumors are flying. Well, at least on all the underground hip-hop blogs they are. Who is Clutchy Hopkins? Could he really be this Ted Kaczynski type hermit living in a cave somewhere out in the Mojave Desert but who perhaps sometime in the '80s recorded these recently discovered and amazing instrumental funk-jazz tracks? And then came out of hiding briefly to put a new record out on Ubiquity only to then disappear once more? Seems doubtful. Details are shady at best. No one has really seen him, except for some less than trustworthy sources. There are only some old photographs of him looking like some serious Moondog cave hippie, like if Gnarls Barkley was an actual person maybe. It's an interesting back story which adds an exciting twist to the origins of these killer tracks, but would they be less killer if the rumors going around were true that maybe this is in fact an alias band project for either Money Mark, Madlib, Cut Chemist, or DJ Shadow? (Our guess? Kid Loco. Seems like he's been in a cave for awhile.) It shouldn't matter, because this shit is good. And who wouldn't rather believe we live in a world where cave-dwelling hermits could make such awesome grooves. Originally released in 2005, it has 12 untitled tracks ranging from flute groovers, and spy chases to strange percussive interludes. We will review the Ubiquity release on a later list, as this one here we like a bit better and want to make it available to you before it, like Clutchy, disappears into the ether.
MPEG Stream: "3:02"
MPEG Stream: "2:07"
MPEG Stream: "3:24"

HORSEFLESH Synthenesia I (Chambara) cd-r 6.98
Brand new disc from local kraut-drone dreamweavers Horseflesh, who in our review of their last record we compared to a cross between Expo 70 and Wolf Eyes, which is not so much the case anymore. They're still drone-y and dreamy, but here, the sound has been pushed even farther out, and from the opening few minutes alone, you know you're in for something different, a gurgling low end shimmer builds in pitch and intensity, faster and faster and louder and louder, until the band locks into a high end Ur-drone, a symphony of synthesized skree, Sunroof! set to stun, difficult and dense, bordering on full on noise, but handled so deftly, we almost don't want it to end. Thankfully, instead of ending, it just sort of changes, the high end drops out leaving a strange pulsing dynamic sea of synth notes, chords, whirring buzzy warbly throbs, creating a strange staggered rhythm, haunting and off kilter, but strangely arresting too, unlike almost anything we've heard but we dig it. This constantly shifting sonic field is anything but ambient, synths and guitars fade in and fade out, reverberating metallic shimmer becomes grinding industrial crunch, warm muted tones become a burbling sea of fragmented melody, it all sort of builds and intensifies into a churning doomdrone finale, dense and effulgent, and strangely majestic. Most bands would probably hang it up there and call it a day, but we're not even 1/3 of the way through yet.
The second track is much more spacious, the high clarion tones clear and resonant, ringing out like car horns and fog horns, the long notes beating against each other, occasionally slipping into strange distorted crunch, but slipping just as effortlessly back into swirling tendrils of warble and whir, the track continues to get more and more dense, the synths more and more like horns, more dissonant, the notes more rapid and closer together, resembling some sped up Hermann Nitsch piece or some other droning atonal chunk of modern classical.
The final track is much more melodic, at least in the beginning, deep washed out blissy tones wreathed in crumbling warm fuzz, the fuzz quickly dissipating, leaving another strange sea of almost chiming upper register tones, their color slowly shifting from whites and yellows and reds, to greys and browns and blacks, growing more ominous and more darkly clouded by the second, the layers peeling back one at a time, eventually leaving a single tone, that drifts and warbles and shimmers and whirs finally fades out completely.
Not nearly as krautrocky or dreamily drone-y as the last Horseflesh, but it would have been too easy to just make another same sounding record. Synthenesia is a much wilder collection of sounds, much more intense and inventive, challenging and difficult, and ultimately, because of that, even more magical and mysterious.
These cd-rs are packaged in super striking handscreened digipaks, with a printed cardstock insert and a sticker.
MPEG Stream: "Trials Of The Bee"
MPEG Stream: "Dividing The Divine"

I SHALT BECOME In The Falling Snow (No Colours) cd 17.98
Yet another archival release from grim suicidal one man black metal outfit I Shalt Become, aka S. Holliman, who hails from Illinois of all grim places, and who, as far as we can tell, has been pretty much inactive for the last decade. This release was recorded way back in 1998 and was originally released as a demo credited to Birkenau, the name Holliman used before switching to I Shalt Become.
Like Wanderings before it, In The Falling Snow is a fantastic, and fantastically twisted chunk of sorrowful black misery. As doomy as it is black, heavily indebted to Burzum of course, but I Shalt Become shares much in common with other more modern practitioners of this sort of ultra grim, plodding midtempo blackness, Xasthur, Krohm, Nortt, Make A Change Kill Yourself, the riffs buzzing and crumbling, the temps loping and dirgey, the mood grim and dour, super atmospheric, not lo-fi necessarily, but murky and muddy and washed out sounding, dreary and drone-y, sweeping swaths of epic keyboard, and the vocals, an exhausted miserable sounding croak, as if most of the lifeforce has already drained away, not leaving enough vitriol to howl or shriek, just enough energy to barely get out these last words from a moldering old deathbed, the wasted, dead quality of the vocals perfectly matching the depressive mood of the music.
But even as miserable and despondent and depressive as these sounds are, they're also hauntingly and harrowingly beautiful, soaring strings, minor key melodies, super dramatic and ultra personal, everything weirdly soft focus and dreamlike, the buzz and plod blurred into gauzy dronemetal soundscapes, the double kick, a pulse buried beneath thick layers of billowing fuzz, the riffs looped and repeated into black buzzing mantras. Way recommended of course, for the miserable and the black hearted.
MPEG Stream: "Burning"
MPEG Stream: "In The Falling Snow"

IMAHORI TSUNEO YOSHIDA TATSUYA Dots (Doubtmusic) cd 16.98
Japan's Ruins are/were a bass and drums prog-spazz duo lead by octopoidal drummer Tatsuya Yoshida. Ruins have been longtime faves 'round here for their manic precision and complex catchiness, kind of a cross between Melt-Banana and Magma, played by a two-piece. Hopefully, you know all about Ruins already. And if you're a fan, then you're reading the right review!
Goddamn, if you thought that Ruins were crazy... believe it or not, Yoshida's latest duo project has upped the ante quite a bit. Teaming with guitarist Imahori Tsueno, and further augmented by computer processing, this takes Yoshida's brand of frenzied prog palpitations into hyperdrive. Considering what we know Yoshida can do live with no overdubs (and even all by himself) it's positively dangerous to allow him and his collaborator to crank up the craziness with technology. Yet the Doubtmusic label has allowed them to do it, twice -- this is their second disc. As you may recall, we already raved about the first one, Territory, last year. This one is equally awesome, if you're at all inclined towards this sort of technical musical mania. It will leave you breathless, staring at your stereo, jaw on floor. There's 17 tracks, ranging from one minute four seconds to eight minutes fifty seconds. All of 'em action packed, constructed through a partially improvised creative process that incorporates malfunctioning video game sounds one nano second, virtuoso jazz fusion licks the next... kecak-like vocal parts, blasting rhythms, heavy guitar rippage. And there's also artificial speed manipulations, pitch shifting, and jump-cut electronic edits -- yeah just when you thought it couldn't get any more dense or intense, it's like they flip a switch and suddenly achieve superhuman levels of prog rock performance (beyond even what the Ruins are known for!).
It's not all speedy spasmodicism, as they also delve into some momentary moody, much calmer atmospherics... always ready to turn a corner into utter ADD insanity, however. While still always retaining a knack for ear-catching riffage, as per the Ruins at their best. And this IS the most Ruins-y thing we've heard in a while!! Of course. Boy this makes us happy.
MPEG Stream: "Quantum"
MPEG Stream: "Expiry"
MPEG Stream: "Gene"

INDIAN JEWELRY We Are The Wild Beast (Tigerbeat 6) cd 13.98
While we have yet to review any Indian Jewelry records on the aQ list, most of us here are pretty big fans. Their Invasive Exotics record was an awesome chunk of tripped out droniness, that probably would have been a really good fit on the aQ list. We'll have to remedy that soon. But before they were Indian Jewelry, they were called NTX + Electric, and had a pretty dramatically different sound.
On We Are The Wild Beast, the soon to be Indian Jewelry sounded less like some wacked Texas free psych dronewave outfit, and more like some NYC no-wave skronk combo, complete with squawking saxophones, thick gristly synth, haunting new wave grooves, lots of electronic bleepery, but also some more modern sounds, some of the melodies sound like they could have been plucked from Interpol songs, there's definitely some garage-y stomp, some shoegazey droneouts, the core sound though is the simple clattery percussion, the huge thick slabs of buzzing synth, and the saxophone, which spends much of its time in the background, unfurling hypnotic snakecharmer grooves.
Buried amidst all this skronk and skree and buzz re some fantastic pop songs, and some killer hooks, but they're usually obscured by clouds of FX, or wrapped around spiky angular riffing. The opener is a killer, a modern sounding dancefloor killer, with it's sax refrain and the blown out synth buzz, a total new wave groove that would have the girljean set frugging madly. But then there's songs like "Looking At You", a dreamy krautpop jam, with that same sax refrain from the first song resurfacing, all under thick sheets of crumbling psych guitar. The nearly 14 minute "S-O-S-O-S" begins like some sort of Spacemen 3 bliss out, but soon transforms into some off kilter Unrest style jam, insistent guitar jangle, Beatles-y croon, and simple lo-fi pop hooks, all wrapped up in loads of distortion, and more amp frying FX.
It's really not that hard to hear a lot of later Indian Jewelry in the sound of NTX+Electric, but they have more of an old school electro / no-wave thing going on, which means fans of folks like Glass Candy and the like might also dig. Cool, weird, awesome stuff.
MPEG Stream: "Walk Through Fire"
MPEG Stream: "Empty Handed"
MPEG Stream: "Poison The Choir"

IRR. APP. (EXT.) / PANICSVILLE split (Nihilist Records) lp 21.00
For those of you who have had the opportunity to witness the live reincarnation of Nurse With Wound over the past couple of years, there are two bald men making funny noises usually on either side of Steven Stapleton. One is Andrew Liles, who had run the table in terms of a release schedule in 2007 releasing 14 full albums of eccentric drones and abstracted collages, some of which were pretty darn good, but could maybe have used some editing. The other bald man is M.S. Waldron, whose slowly trickled releases are impeccable constructions of modern day Surrealism through audio sorcery, clearly not in any need of an editor whatsoever. Outside of NWW, he's been toiling away in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California under the unwieldy moniker irr. app. (ext.).
This split release with Chicago's Panicsville has been in the works for many years now, finally seeing the light of day in early 2008. The irr. app. (ext.) half of the equation slowly spirals from one assemblage of discombobulated field recordings, agitated ether, and curious atmospherics into another set of equally malformed sounds, much like a black-acid kaleidoscope. Yes, it makes perfect sense that Stapleton would want Waldron to assist in Nurse performances, as he clearly has talent at taking weird noise making to a sublime level of abstraction.
With a name like Panicsville, the expectations were of an obstinant noise project; but instead, this splatter of mechanoid gestures pocking sea-sick drones is a worthy companion to irr. app. (ext.)'s sidereal brilliance. So good in fact, that we may seek out further recordings. So good in fact, that you too should pick this thing up. Limited to 500 copies.

JABLADAV Primland (self-released) 2cd-r 27.00
What began as an homage to legendary SF black metallers Weakling, and maybe even a joke (not a ha ha joke, more of a fucking around, we're bored so we might as well record some grim black metal joke) has pretty rapidly morphed into a serious black metal contender amongst weirdo black metal aficionados.
Jabladav is a one man band who owes as much to Weakling as they do to Black Flag. Their first release, Dead As Duck, was a gnarled Greg Ginn-ified blast of intense blackness, blown out guitar buzz, insane blasting drums, some killer riffing and huge heapings of black atmosphere, channeling Weakling through all sorts of random not-that-black business, drone, post rock, math rock, no wave, and yeah Black Flag. The thing was, whatever inspired it, was soon eclipsed by how fucked up and far out the finished product was. A baffling and fucking genius collection of convoluted black buzz. Hot on the heels of the debut, came a second disc, Black As Pitch, which was like part two of Dead As Duck, but expanding the sound, making it even more metal, more chaotic, the songs got longer, and way more complex, even introducing some intensely blackened ambience. Which led to the next record, 3K Hum, a mostly ambient affair, huge stretched out slabs of glacial blur, massive roiling low end rumble, shimmering black ambience, hypnotic and mesmerizing, and while ambient, still extremely dense and heavy.
As if that weren't an exhausting spurt of creativity, now, not all that much later, comes the latest from Jabladav, the even more expansive and sprawling 2 cd-r set Primland, two hours of incredibly tangled black riffing, super blown out buzz drenched production, creepy keyboards, and deep dark ambience, super mathy drums, demonic vocals, all wound into super extended black jams, shot through with head spinning Ginn-ish squiggly leads, stop start riffing, but all strangely melodic, a moody mournful undercurrent beneath the roiling black heaviness. And the drums, shit, the drumming is insane, WAY up in the mix, louder than the guitars even, mathy and calculus complicated, like the guy was sitting at the top of a concrete stairwell in a 40 story building, each landing mic-ed, and then proceeded to hurl drum kit after drum kit into the black abyss, only in such a way that the resulting crash and clatter coalesced into impossibly deranged black rhythms.
But then out of nowhere, there'll be a track, all murky and muddy, lo-fi and practice space style, that sounds like it could be some lost nineties BM demo. EXCEPT, it's Jabladav, so even those tracks, are layered with slow doomy tones, deep rumbling chimes, and raspy vocals, threatening to swallow up the thrashing blackness below.
The tracks are definitely tweaked, and damaged, and a little bit spaced out and acid fried, druggy and mathy, but at their core they are pure black, the riffs are blown out, recorded so loud and in the red, the chords threaten to crumble. The record careens wildly from stumbling doomic Burzum style lope, to manic crazed thrashing black blasts, often both in the same song, the strange production only adds to the mood and weirdness, the songs on Primland even more epic and far out and convoluted and fucked than any of the Jabladav we've heard before, which is saying a lot. WAY recommended black metal weirdness/brilliance.
While they last, we have the ULTRA LIMITED, wax sealed wooden box version. If it's too pricey for you, hold off and we'll relist the normal version once these are sold out, but c'mon, this music deserves more than a jewel case. These are hand assembled, hand stained wood boxes, with a removable lid, that slides out, inside are the two cd-rs, in jewel case, and a printed color insert. The box is sealed shut with a silver wax seal. Each box signed and numbered on the bottom. But be warned, these are not had crafted keepsakes, the kind on a glass shelf at your grandma's house, no, they look grim and ancient, like the music within, weathered and worn, they're beautiful, but they look like they were unearthed from some cursed tomb, left on a shelf in a locked room, in an abandoned house, where they were discovered years later. Meaning that they are not perfect, the coloring is different on each, as is the wax seal, and the seal is quite fragile, so no matter how carefully packaged, the seal might crumble, or come off in transit, but you have to remove the seal anyway if you want to listen to the music.
You have been warned...
MPEG Stream: "Black Snow"
MPEG Stream: "Lodona"
MPEG Stream: "Vin Den Orden Jag Levandre"

JABLADAV Drunk As Duck (self-released) cd-r 4.98
Not one, but TWO new releases from this one man, Weakling worshipping black metal misanthrope, known as Jabladav, but maybe this one doesn't count, as it was recorded under the influence, HEAVILY under the influence, and thus is a bit of a stumbling, lurching mess. But what a glorious mess it is. If it wasn't called Drunk As Duck (a reference to the debut Jabladav record Dead As Duck) and if it didn't have a cover image of discarded corks from (presumably) bottles drunk, and if there wasn't an apology in the liner notes asking the listener to listen with a sense of humor, if NONE of that were present, we probably would have just assumed this was some super wacked, freaked out, damaged lo-fi black metal record, and we would have loved it just as much as we do now, maybe even more.
Take the normal sound of Jabladav, lower the dexterity level, slow things down a bit, make it a bit doomier, a bit murkier, add a bit more stumble, a bit more warble, and fuck, if your not left with something truly deranged and warped.
Way less mathy and complex than Jabladav proper (due, we assume, in no small part, to inebriation), the sound on Drunk as Duck, is a lurching doomic black metal, which at times reminds us a bit of Xasthur, or more specifically, the legion of Xasthur influenced black buzzers, with it's murky miserablism, it's stumbling rhythms, but a little hooch isn't enough to remove all of Jabladav's instrumental prowess, so plenty, of that tangled riffing, and Greg Ginn like gnarled guitar freakouts still surface here and there, but they tend to be draped over murky buzzing plods, or funereal dirges. When the tracks do occasionally burst into blast mode, instead of sounding shitty, or bad, or amateur, it just sounds, well, weird, chaotic, confusional, often splintering into abstract freakouts, or meandering black jams, but that stuff sounds amazing. We wouldn't dare say we like this better than Jabladav proper, but damn if we don't like it almost as much.
There seems to be a lot more keyboards going on too, adding a definite moody creepy vibe to the proceedings, but what can we say, even wasted, this guy can craft some truly demented black brilliance.
LIMITED TO ONLY 100 COPIES! Each one hand numbered.
MPEG Stream: "Light Has Died"
MPEG Stream: "Burzum La Chimay"
MPEG Stream: "Thangoraium"

KLIMEK Dedications (Anticipata) cd 15.98
Klimek might just be our favorite practitioner of this known as Pop Ambient. The swirl and shimmer of chill out techno music without the beats. Leaving just gorgeous gaseous whirls of sound that soothe and mesmerize, sprawling expanses of glistening, glimmering gauzy soft focus ambient dreampop.
Most aQ customers are already hip to the whole Pop Ambient thing, we sell tons of the Kompakt Pop Ambient comps, and those collections do tend to work well as albums, just not compilations, the various artists' sonic likemindedness coming through as a series of songs that blend and mesh into each other, offering a woozy late night dreamlike journey through sound.
But there are serious limitations to what a compilation can offer. It's a series of brief glimpses into these sonic worlds the artists create, and more often than not, we want to crawl in and get lost. The recent record from The Field is a great example, maybe the best ambient techno release since the last Gas record, dreamy and bleary and fuzzy sounds wrapped around haunting loops and skipping beats. Not so much heroin house as, as well, maybe ecstasy house. Like laying on dewy grass and watching fluffy white clouds make strange shapes in a cobalt blue sky. But when the sun sets, and the moon comes over the trees, the stars twinkling, that's when Klimek steps in, our own sonic sandman, sprinkling his gritty, granular pixie dust into our ears, sending us drifting into the netherworld between this world and the world of dreams.
While we've loved pretty much every Klimek record, this new one might be the darkest, and best yet. A much bigger focus on the guitar, and consequently the song. Bits of tangled picking, or softly strummed chords, are wreathed in digital buzz, or chopped up and sent skittering like rocks skipping across a pond. The sound is almost more Morr music than Kompakt (which makes sense since this one is NOT on Kompakt). More like one of those pop bands who dip their minor key minimalism in a swirling cauldron of strange hiss and warm thick reverb. But unlike much of that music, the sound here is quite dark, ominous and swirling, tense and intense, moody and cinematic.
The idea behind this disc is pretty unique as well. Each song dedicated to two of Klimek's idols, not always musical, and the two influences don't always seem compatible. But somehow they end up sounding pretty perfect. The source sounds often culled from the works of one or both of the influences. The track dedicated to Mark Hollis and Giacinto Scelsi, takes just the opening chord from one of Hollis's songs, and stretches and smears it into a gauzy midnight drift, soft and sweetly shimmery. The track dedicated to Eugene Chadborne and Henry Kaiser, is the most obtuse, weird little squalls of stuttery guitar and glitchy electronic FX, but they are somehow woven into something warm and beautiful, the edges smoothed, with only brief flashes of the gnarled riffage beneath.
Other tracks are based on / influenced by artists as varied as Kurt Kirkwood, Steven Spielberg, Marvin Gaye and Michael Gira (to name just the ones we've heard of), but those influences are just that, and this isn't any sort of plunderphonic experiment, it's merely Klimek recognizing the artists who have shaped his sonic worldview, and offering up a tribute, as abstract and hazy as that tribute might be. Absolutely stunning.
MPEG Stream: "For Jim Hall & Kurt Kirkwood"
MPEG Stream: "For Eugene Chadborne & Henry Kaiser"
MPEG Stream: "For Mark Hollis & Giacinto Scelsi"

LI JIANHONG San Sheng Shi (aRCHIVE) cd 13.98
51 minutes, 1 track. 1 guitar, 1 guy: Li Jianhong. No, we didn't think we'd ever heard of him, either. But this is an aRCHIVE release, super limited and super swank, which means that we HAD to order a bunch in. We trust those guys, aRCHIVE. And we're glad we did, this is great! That is, if you're into distortion and feedback and heavy drone guitar like we are. This is extremely droney, very vast and very physical, sheets of glorious amped up fuzz. What's not to like? It moves forward with energy, building, swelling, keening, billowing. Rising and falling, at about 30 minutes in, subsiding from a dense, intense drone-tone into a mellower respite, before Li Jianhong leans on his amps/pedals/volume knob/etc. and dials up the distortion yet again.
He's the Chinese Keiji Haino perhaps, but without any of the shrieking vocals. Yep, this is some nice, thick, bleak psychedelia (it says so on the sleeve, "bleak" and "psychedelia" being some of the only text not in Chinese, and it's true).
Turns out Li's a member of PSF label noise band D!O!D!O!D!, reviewed here a while back, and has some other solo works out on his own label... we'll definitely look out for more from him in future... While D!O!O!O!D! was one for improv skree-lovin' noiseniks only, we wouldn't hesitate to recommend THIS to fans of, say, Boris's Feedbacker. And the likes of Suishou No Fune and LSD-march. Also Nadja, Fear Falls Burning, Birchville Cat Motel...
LIMITED TO ONLY 500 copies. Packaged in a tri-fold sleeve featuring live photos of an impassioned performance by Li, inside a tri-fold vellum wrapper bearing a image of a craggy mountain peak.
MPEG Stream: "San Sheng Shi (excerpt 1)"
MPEG Stream: "San Sheng Shi (excerpt 2)"

LSD POND (LSD MARCH + BARDO POND) s/t (aRCHIVE) 2cd 16.98
This one hardly needs a review. Space rockers Bardo Pond, jamming with Japanese psych-rockers LSD-March! Two discs, looooooooong songs, plenty of sprawling druggy psychedelia, throbbing serpentine basslines, busy groovy drumming, and lots and lots and lots of guitars, buzzing and whirring, grinding and roaring, wailing and howling.
Culled from two stoned, late-night recording sessions on days off from the 2006 Bardo Pond / LSD-March / Masami Kawaguchi's New Rock Syndicate East Coast tour, these tracks were edited together by Bardo Pond-er Michael Gibbons with no overdubs, just a document of epic, swirling, lurching, grooving spaced out psych rock.
Incredible recording, super clear, almost studio quality, multiple drummers, multiple guitar players, the sound is loud, and intense, sometimes blissing out into laid back stretches of near ambient tranquility, but always building back up into howling squalls of freaked out psychrock nirvana. The first disc is the more jammy of the two, more loose and improvised sounding, even the opening track fades in with the track already in full swing, like they had already been jamming for a while before we even got to the part.
The second disc introduces flute, and some electronics, and begins with a looped lick, over some skittery drumming, and some serious grinding growling low end, it goes on for ages, and we never really wanted it to stop. It does eventually, which is okay as the band has already moved on, locking into some new looped rhythm, the guitars fiery arcs of sound, that low end continuing to grind and buzz, the multiple guitars and guitar parts careening wildly over a roiling backdrop of howling moaning distorted buzz.
The second track on disc two is almost entirely ambient, sounding more like Toho Sara or something, the guitars smeared and blurred, everything buzzy and rumbling, clouds of tinkling shimmer and random percussive clatter, hand drums, glitchy electronics, streaks of feedback, thick swaths of distorted abstract riffing, culminating in a soaring blown out multiple guitar-ed Ur-drone. The disc finishes off with a 20 minute scorcher that goes from furious psych skree meltdown, to stumbling abstract freeform flutter and back, the players locked in a battle to the death, full freakout, ultra-noise mode, vocals scrambling over a dogpile of grinding electronics, a sea of shrieking feedback, an avalanche of drum chaos, and about a ton of blown out guitar damage. Phew.
Every time we play this in the store, someone buys one, or someone comes out from the back to see what the heck is playing. This might just be one of the most played discs in the store recently. And rightfully so.
As always, aRCHIVE spares no expense on the packaging, but they may have outdone themselves this time. A thick textured black ink on cream cardstock gatefold sleeve, the words LSD and POND embossed and printed in reflective silver ink, inside an 8 page black and white booklet affixed to the sleeve, with live photos and liner notes, each disc in it's own black sleeve, printed in silver ink, Japanese characters, the two discs held together by a Japanese style obi, in the same style as the cover. WOW.
LIMITED TO 1000 COPIES. A one time pressing, so don't miss outŠ
MPEG Stream: "We Are LSDPOND (2nd Version)"
MPEG Stream: "Sugatanaki Kyofu"

MESSIAH COMPLEX Incomplete Trephination (200mg) 2cd-r 8.98
The label calls the music of Messiah Complex "death noise" and who are we to argue? This Scottish one man merchant of deathlike noise offers up two discs, nearly two hours of minimal blackened dronemusic. Multiple songs or pieces or movements, melded into two huge suites.
The first disc is downright lovely, beginning as a breathy shimmery metallic ebb and flow, a gentle pulse, layered drones, fuzzy and indistinct, throb softly in a sea of hiss and barely audible rumble. At one point the track downshifts from the hissy blur into some serious cavernous low end rumble, deeeeeeeeep and darkly ominous, it eventually builds to a wall of crumbling distortion, but quickly subsides and returns to a whirring shimmer.
The second disc takes up right where the first disc left off, albeit a bit more ominously, and with some added noise, some industrial clatter, some reverbed metallic grind, the slow low rumble builds and builds and builds eventually erupting into an awesomely caustic freakout, that almost sounds like THE heaviest part of a Neurosis song, where the vocals are howling the guitars are roaring, that single second stretched into a long blurred blast. It eventually peters out, but in its place surfaces some sort of post industrial metallic Whitehouse sound, huge corrosive shards of jagged sound, walls of feedback, shrieking, moaning tones, a harsh vocal howling over the top. Finally giving way to a roiling backdrop of distorted downtuned crumble, over which guitars drone and whit and buzz and throb, a murky dense stretch of washed out softnoise. Fans of stuff like SUNNO))) and other minimal heaviness might dig this, especially if they're looking for something a bit more harsh and intense, without losing any of its hypnotic droniness.
Packaged in a cool oversized screenprinted cardstock booklet, inside a printed black and white booklet packed with garish shots of bones and skulls in various states of damaged or deformity.
MPEG Stream: "Incomplete Trephination (excerpt)"

MYSTIFIED Cold Telemetry (Small Doses) cd-r 8.98
One of a handful of new releases from Small Doses, a micro-label that is quickly becoming one of our favorites, every disc both sonically and visually stunning.
This one is from a group/person called Mystified, the sound is a shimmering dark ambience, crafted from haunting drones and processed electronics. Mysterious metallic reverberations, soft industrial whir, abstract almost-melodies, insectoid buzz, smears of muted crackle, and crumbling distorted hiss, deep rumbles, reverbed percussion, thick squalls of slowed down grinding digital glitch, soft billowing clouds of gauzy low end smear, each track a single sound, or series of sounds, stretched and blurred into long streaks of gorgeous and ominous dark minimalism. Dreamy drones, soft focus blackened rituals, post industrial clatter, raga like buzz, expansive high end skree, all very subtle, haunting, mysterious and strangely pretty.
More super cool packaging, a thick printed card, with a printed textured diamond glued to the front, so one half of the diamond folds over and holds the cd in place. Each cd is hand numbered on the underside of the diamond, LIMITED TO 88 COPIES!
MPEG Stream: "Telemetry"</