DEAD REPTILE SHRINE Isth Narai Ja (Antihumanism) cassette 8.98
We're always going on and on about the weirdest, most fucked up black metal bands ever, even elsewhere on this list, we review the new one from Tasmanian one man band Striborg, and declare it maybe the weirdest yet. But there's weird, and then there's Dead Reptile Shrine, who beyond being weird, are barely even black metal, the metallic elements far outweighed by the fractured folk and total whatthefuck elements, and the blackness, well that infuses pretty much every sound they produce, just not in the way most folks are used to or most metalheads want. Instead, DRS do their own thing, and their own thing is some fucked up mix of dark dronemusic, detuned free folk, stumbling chaotic black metal, some orchestral bits, tortured vocals, all wound into a confusional world of black rituals and mysterious sonic otherworlds. While we anxiously await the forth coming double cd on tUMULt, we have THREE new tapes to tide us over, two reissue of long out of print rarities, and another brand new album, to be released soon on cd and vinyl as well, but for now on the oh so cult cassette format. Each of these is limited to 400 copies, we got a bunch, 30 or so, but odds are those will go fast and we probably won't be able to get more.
Isth Naral Ja was one of two full lengths released in 2002, but whereas N.t.K. was a proper DRS release, Isth Naral Ja was a three track, 65 minute, all ambient record, originally given away with another disc, and later reissued, but both times in incredible limited amounts. While much of DRS's output is truly twisted, sometimes to the point of sounding a bit goofy to the untrained ear, the sounds found on Isth, while still twisted, are woven into what seems to be a much more serious soundworld. Epic sprawling expanses of whirring low end, deep throbbing bass, strange disembodied voices, fractured truncated guitar melodies, very haunting and peculiar, incantations surface throughout, long long long streaks of sound, trance inducing minimal rumbles, hissing almost industrial high end, long stretches of hushed murmured blackness, that bass pulse creepy and recurring, the whole thing very cinematic and evocative of some grim black wood, or some abandoned house, or some vast black sea, seemingly serene on the surface, but with who knows lurking beneath.
Isth manages the difficult task of being twisted and strange, haunting and mysterious, still embodying the musical ethos of Dead Reptile Shrine, while pushing the sound into new directions, without losing any of its power, any of its mystery, its blackness.
Whereas other DRS records are most definitely an acquired taste, this disc, while definitely still essential listening for DRS fans, would most definitely please the abstract drone and cd-r crowds. Tunnels, Bones Of Seabirds, Drommer, Expo '70, Nordvargr, Acre, Bonus, Encomiast, Starving Weirdos, Metal Rouge, Trollmann, folks who dig any or all of those might just dig this particular chunk of Dead Reptile Shrine black ambience.

DEAD REPTILE SHRINE N.t.K. (Antihumanism) cassette 8.98
We're always  going on and on about the weirdest, most fucked up black metal bands ever, even elsewhere on this list, we review the new one from Tsmanian one man band Striborg, and declare it maybe the weirdest yet. But there's weird, and then there's Dead Reptile Shrine, who beyond being weird, are barely even black metal, the metallic elements far outweighed by the fractured folk and total whtthefuck elements, and the blackness, well that infuses pretty much every sound they produce, just not in the way most folks are used to or most metalheads want. Instead, DRS do their own thing, and their own thing is some fucked up mix of dark dronemusic, detuned free folk, stumbling chaotic black metal, some orchestral bits, tortured vocals, all wound into a confusional world of black rituals and mysterious sonic otherworlds. While we anxiously await the forth coming double cd on tUMULt, we have THREE new tapes to tide us over, two reissue of long out of print rarities, and another brand new album, to be released soon on cd and vinyl as well, but for now on the oh so cult cassette format. Each of these is limited to 400 copies, we got a bunch, 30 or so, but odds are those will go fast and we probably won't be able to get more.
N.t.K was one of two full lengths released in 2002, originally a super limited cd-r, and yet another piece of the missing pieces puzzle that is the bizarre soundworld of Dead Reptile Shrine. The opener is a super creepy slab of ritualistic drone, the low end drenched in hiss and disrtortion, the vocals a harsh whisper, seriously haunting and intense, a murky mystery that soon gives way to a more 'traditional' DRS, a fractured buzz drenched fragmented black metal, ultra lo-fi, the guitars so distorted they almost sound like a solid hum, the drums a buried muffled thump, the vocals harsh and venomous, until they shift gears and become swoonsome wailing, the sound more Urfaust or Jandek, a wailing clean voice that goes from deep bellow to off kilter howl, as fucked up and out there as the music behind it. Later, the sound veers into all sorts of unimaginable territories, one track offers up a weird almost bouncy stumble, with sing songy clean vocals, underpinned by a super creepy death metal gurgle, the track like some blackened chunk of French outsider new wave, the vocals slipping from hysterical shriek a sort of creepy scatting, another track unleashes some super grim, old school raw plodding black metal, like Darkthrone and Von, but filtered through a broken boombox and a fractured psyche, while still another is a gorgeous black folk drift, all muted strum and mumbled melody, before it suddenly transforms into a stuttering dizzying off kilter doom, with some deep demonic vocals that sound almost like Darth Vader, and another sounds almost like crusty punk, pounding riffage and simple drumming and weird nasally punk rock vocals. It's all over the place, but some twisted black thread holds it all together. We've mentioned it time and time again, but the music of Dead Reptile Shrine is not for the faint of heart, or even the black of soul, it's for the twisted, the warped, the musical misanthropes, in search of sounds mysterious and baffling, and no band was ever more of both than DRS.

STRIBORG The Foreboding Silence (Displeased) cd 14.98
For once being a grim cult mystery, whose records were practically impossible to find, Striborg has turned into an actual 'band', releasing a record every year, sometimes more than one, guesting on other folks' records, touring with SUNNO))).... you think the glare of the spotlight would have gone to his head, but thankfully, the music of Striborg, aka Sin-Nanna, is as bleak and twisted and fucked up as ever. So fucked up in fact that we are well aware that Striborg is not every metalhead's cup of tea, a quick look at the reviews on the Encyclopedia Metallum website reveals that a whole lot of people don't dig it, or more accurately probably, don't get it.
But as far as we're concerned, what's not to get?! Striborg create truly evocative, lo-fi black metal, that is as idiosyncratic as it is true and grim. The production has remained the same for over a decade, if anything it's gotten progressively more low fidelity and damaged sounding, the music instead of getting tighter and more polished has wandered further and further from traditional black metal tropes, which is precisely why we love it so much. For those new to Striborg, there are 15 or so other reviews on the aQ site that go into great depth, but in brief, Striborg is Sin-Nanna, who lives in the middle of a rainforest in Tasmania, and who crafts some of the most damaged and demented and freaky black metal we've ever heard. Bands like Furze, or Necrofrost, sound like Metallica next to the madness that is Striborg. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much, and this latest, newest Striborg might even, as impossible as it might seem, manage to outweird the preceding 15 or so releases.
Some things have remained the same, the artwork is appropriately abstract, nothing but pictures and drawings of forests, pictures and drawings of Sin-Nanna himself (including a random glamour shot on the back cover where he sort of looks like a high school goth or New Romantic!), pictures of caves, rivers, the sky and the moon, and not a whole lot else, minimal liner notes, but it's the musicŠ
Sin-Nanna implements a new arrangement this time, still leaning toward the loooong songs, but this time they are preceded by or separated by intros and intervals, most a minute or less, haunting keyboard ambience, bird calls and the sounds of the night forest, a strange sample from some film, laughing voices, male and female, melancholy marimba melodies, Bernard Hermann style strings, a child and a woman intoning some sort of incantation, reverb soaked piano, whirring shimmering cinematic drones, mournful horns, tinkling chimes, but as creepy and abstract as those are, they don't even hold a candle to the songs.
And the first proper song on The Foreboding Silence, "A Lonely Walk In A Desolate Cold Pine Forest", really might be the best (and most fucked) Striborg song EVER. Eleven minutes long, the track begins with an impossibly buzzy riff, that literally sounds like a swarm of insects, or a million kazoos, unfurling a chromatic wall of nearly static buzz, that shifts from note to note, creating a lurching jagged melody, over which totally dizzying atonal marimbas pulse and loop, sending the whole thing into a woozy sea sick spiral, the various melodies, far from complimentary, the whole thing sounding like it's gradually growing more dissonant, more out of tune, the drums stumbling in the background, the vocal a harsh shriek, it's so off kilter that with headphones on it will make your head spin. Eventually, the marimbas drop out, leaving the track to plod along doomily, the buzzing riff like the sound of a rainstorm on a tin roof, the song shifts tempos, slipping from plod to pound and back again, eventually locking into a repetitive outro, the drums simple, the guitars locked into a two note loop, punctuated by what sounds like thunder off in the distance, which gives the effect even more of the buzzing guitars becoming the sound of rainfall.
The title track is another tweaked masterpiece, the drums locked into an almost-groove, the guitar still in full insectoid buzz mode, underpinning the spewed demonic vox, and a strange gnarled almost Greg Ginn-ish guitar overdub. The drums are LOUD, way up in the mix, shifting from stumbling blast to relentless double kick, while the guitar buzz swirls and sways and slips back and forth right along with it. The biggest surprise here, besides the opener, is the closer, "Somnambulistic Nightmares Return", a lurching chunk of slow motion doom, with some serious guitar chug, and some simple drum pound, while beneath some sort of super intense reverberating low end drone surfaces and envelops the song, while over the top, some woozy clean guitar drifts in, offering up a mournful, mildly atonal counterpoint, resulting in one of the weirdest and strangely pretty Striborg songs yet.
What else needs to be said? If you have all of the other Striborg records, odds are you're a bit obsessed like us and probably need this one too, if you've yet to take the plunge, The Foreboding Silence is definitely a great place to start, and if you get hooked, or are feeling particularly daring, we have a bunch of other Striborg releases in stock, all twisted genius, all fucked and grim and fantastic, just ask...
MPEG Stream: "A Lonely Walk In A Desolate Cold Pine Forest"
MPEG Stream: "The Foreboding Silence"
MPEG Stream: "Somnambulistic Nightmares Return"

ISHIKAWA, AKIRA & COUNT BUFFALO Uganda (Tiliqua) cd 28.00
It's no longer out of the ordinary for a rock band to look beyond rock for inspiration. Or a jazz band, looking to expand their sound. It definitely makes sense as musicians are generally constantly striving to explore, to open their minds, their music, searching for unique instruments, new ideas, new sounds, even looking for something much more ineffable, something more spiritual. Psychedelic rock bands have typically looked East, The Beatles are probably the prime example of a rock band looking to India for musical AND spiritual inspiration. But on a much smaller scale, modern music develops and expands by incorporating new influences, the more 'exotic' the better. So for years, we could watch bands do just that, incorporate new instruments, sitars, tablas, whatever, alternate tunings, Eastern scales. Jazz musicians on the other hand, tended to look to Africa for inspiration, the tribal drumming, the vocal chants, all found their way onto tons of amazing records, amazing in part because of what they borrowed from the African music that was their genesis, as with many many discs by the Art Ensemble, Coltrane, Don Cherry, etc., etc.Š
So if all this borrowing and influence is so commonplace, what's the big deal with this disc, a deluxe reissue of a rare 1972 LP entitled Uganda, by Japan's strangely named Akira Ishikawa & Count Buffalo? Well to begin with, imagine a Japanese jazz drummer in the early seventies, so obsessed with African music, that not only are his records already rife with African influences, but he eventually travels there, and proceeds to play with local musicians, collects indigenous instruments, and returns, driven to realize the record he knows he must make, Uganda, a record that manages to sound like African music, jazz and psychedelic rock, while sounding like nothing else. Ishikawa teamed up with fellow percussionist Larry Sunaga, a bassist and guitarist, and a saxophonist, who instead of playing sax, composed all four lengthy pieces here, the results are amazing. Dense, dizzying, abstract and tribal, fuzzy and tripped out, long stretches of solo hand drum percussion, furious acid fuzz freakouts (courtesy of guitarist Kimio Mizutani, from Love Live Life+1, People, and other freaky Japanese '70s psych units), chanting and handclaps, all woven into an expansive, sprawling divine chunk of out there Afro-fuzz-psych-jazz-rock divinity.
Take the first track "Animals and Dawn", nearly 12 minutes long, and over those 12 minutes, the song veers and drifts through about ten distinctly different sounds and styles, all held together by the relentless African drum jam that runs through all four tracks. Beginning with what sounds like some strange low end synth buzz, those drums kick in, intense and hyper rhythmic, amazingly recorded, so on headphones it sounds like drums are all around you. That buzz, pulses and undulates beneath the frenzied drumming, and this goes on for almost 3 minutes, which is when some wild super distorted acid psych guitar swoops in, jagged and freaked out, spitting out soaring wah wah drenched buzz, before the bass joins in and the drums coalesce into a more recognizable groove, and the band nails it, heavy, slithery proto-metal, churning and pounding, eventually locking into a super technical prog workout, and then dropping out completely, again leaving just the drums, which are soon joined by hand clapping, and chanted African style vocals. Finally, for the last four minutes or so, the band unwinds a groovy jazzy prog workout, still underpinned by those same rhythms, but now the bass carries the groove, letting the guitar go wild, wild psychedelic leads all tangled up in great strange shapes over the groovy rhythm below. Eventually, the song is swallowed up by effects, reverb, delay, echo, as if the band were playing on some huge elevator, as we sit on the surface, listening as the band slips further and further into darkness. Holy shit. If this were a $30 single, that track alone would make this essential for folks into psychrock, proto-metal, free jazz, avant African music or really anyone into strange and fantastical sounds.
The second track, "Asking For Love", once again begins with African drums, the two percussionists, offering up wild tangled beats for nearly two minutes, until in swoops a weird synthy buzz, which quickly transforms into a seriously Led Zep worthy riff, the drums a strange counterpoint to the distinctly rock and roll riffage, and the vocals soaring and shouting, but this kick ass riff fades out only after a minute, and we're back to more dense drumming, Mesmerizing and hypnotic, locking into incredible grooves, veering off into off kilter time signatures here and there, but always returning to that groove. This continues until about one minute from the end, when the bass and guitars explode in a buzzing psychedelic freakout, the drums mirroring the intensity of the axes, locked into an ever expanding supernova of blown out sound, until the furious explosive finish. Whew.
Track three (on the original, the start of side 2) "Battle", begins with some straight up jazz prog, angular and complex, the drums and guitars locked tight, the whole thing convoluted and intricate, stopping suddenly after 30 seconds, at which point an African thumb piano plucks out a delicate music box melody, while in the background, other strange instruments scrape and thump and honk, eventually blossoming into a full on Afro-jam, the drums pounding away, male and female vocals, call and response over the mesmeric beats below, but again, this only lasts a few minutes before switching gears and launching right back into the angular prog that opened the track. This happens a couple more times. Long stretches of abstract percussion, plenty of buzz, and rattle, melodies played out on mysterious African instruments, separated by brief blasts of that  buzzing tangled prog, which is exactly how the track finishes off.
The closer, "Pygmy" begins with a groovy walking bass line, a cowbell heavy almost-funk rhythm, eventually some acidic wah wah guitar, and suddenly we're in some serious seventies, Blaxploitation soundtrack style jazz funk, the bass a constant presence, that groove irresistible, the vocals soulful, the percussion still busy and intense, beneath the more static rhythm driving the songs. The guitar and vocals get all tangled up, the vocals more sort of scatting, the guitar offering up jagged shards of high end, or unfurling soaring psychrock leads, the bass and guitar locking into step right at the end, for one final super tight psychprog finish.
It almost seems ridiculous to describe each song in detail, as that's only part of the story. All four tracks work together, leading into one another, offering up bits from pervious songs, giving up little sonic hints as to what might come later, and it's not just the arrangements, it's the feel, the mood, the vibe, and while mere description might make some of the songs sound schizophrenic, flipping back and forth from part to part, some parts lasting only a few seconds, nothing could be further from the truth. The composition here is as deft as the performance, the arrangement is simultaneously free and abstract, yet, tight and composed. The songs breathe and open up, drift and wander, but never seem to lose their direction, and the grooves ever present, even if on the surface the band seem to be drifting though inner space.
Uganda is truly unique, freaky and far out for sure, but most definitely an essential chunk of jazzy, proggy African Japanese psych rock bliss, organic, expansive, epic, rhythmic, space-y, proggy, heavy and funky!! If you've got Julian Cope's Japrocksampler book, you'll find it in his Top 50 list of Japanese psych essentials, right above the debut from Flower Travellin' Band.
As with all Tiliqua releases, gorgeously packaged. This one is housed in a full color miniature box, printed front and back, with a Japanese style obi of course, and inside extensive liner notes in both Japanese and English, with tons of photos. And it is limited of course, not sure how limited, but judging from how quick past Tiliqua releases fly out of here, better to be safe than sorry. And this is actually the first in a new Tiliqua series called Distorted Oriental Sensory Perceptions 1969-1978 focusing on "Obscure Japanese Psychedelic rock artifacts." We can hardly wait to see what they dig up next... there's a lot of others on that Japrocksampler list we'd love to hear...
MPEG Stream: "Wanyamana Mapambazuko"
MPEG Stream: "Na Tu Penda Sana"
MPEG Stream: "Vita"

JABLADAV Primland (self released) cd-r 10.98
Primland was originally released as a super limited (100 copies) double cd, housed in a hand painted, custom built wood box, sealed with wax, and thus had a price tag to match. The box is now out of print, but Primland is now available as a much more affordable single disc, and while the box and the second disc may have been discarded, that hardly detracts from the impact of this serious slab of crushingly twisted blackness from one man black metal maven Jabladav...
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 twisted Primland, a hellish chunk 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.
MPEG Stream: "Black Snow"
MPEG Stream: "Lodona"
MPEG Stream: "Vin Den Orden Jag Levandre"

JABLADAV Primland II (self released) cd-r 10.98
Primland was originally released as a super limited (100 copies) double cd, housed in a hand painted, custom built wood box, sealed with wax, and thus had a price tag to match. The box is now out of print, but Primland is now available as two much more affordable single discs, the first of which we reviewed a few lists back, a serious slab of crushingly twisted blackness, this is the second disc, the abstract ambient accompaniment to the first disc's more furious fucked up heaviness. But in its own, way just as intense and black.
Whereas Jabladav typically sounds a bit like some gnarled tangled up hybrid of Black Flag and SF black metal legends Weakling (Jabladav began as an homage to Weakling in fact), this second Primland disc is something else all together, a collection of sprawling dronescapes, thick with crumbling drones, black ambience, abstract piano, long drawn out epics, expansive worlds of bleak and blackened mystery. Think MZ412 or the more recent Nordvargr / Drakh collaborations, this is brooding, haunting, malevolent minimalism, but shot through with plenty of texture and mood, layered sounds woven into organic slow moving black drifts, bits of percussion surface here and there, jarring amidst the bleak slow shifting backdrop, streaks of sound that resemble strings, the piano pounding out doomy almost-melodies, drones swelling and throbbing and pulsing beneath, some of the layers processed into dizzying loops, super hypnotic and truly strange.
One track does flirt with heaviness, offering up a sport of crumbling dirgedrone, but wrapped in static, and grinding electronics, oozing over deep dreamy swells, disembodied squalls of processed noise, so distorted they threaten to blow your speakers, before being reeled in, and swallowed whole by an impossibly thick wall of dense black hole low end, shot through with glimmering upper register tones and streaks of fragmented melody.
The final track is like a slow motion raga, all hypnotic buzz and slow burning minimalism, the speed shifting subtly throughout, the track oozing and swerving and slithering, playing tricks on the listeners ears, invoking a glorious disorienting sort of audio sea sickness, woozy and druggy, and strangely irresistible.
No metal to be found here, but that's not the point, taken with disc one, this completes Jabladav's high concept Primland epic, a massive chunk of confusional outsider black art, combining dense blackened minimalism with cracked and damaged black metal weirdness, the two halves somehow reflected in each other, both able to stand on their own, but together, making up a singular organic sonic entity.
LIMITED TO 100 COPIES, each one hand numbered.
MPEG Stream: "Primland"
MPEG Stream: "Faith"

KHOLD Hundre Ar Gammal (Candlelight) cd 12.98
We're huge fans of Norwegian black metallers Khold, who we've described in the past as a black metal Nirvana, which while perhaps simplifying it a bit too much, does essentially get at the root of their sound. The weird thing is we thought Khold were dead and gone. Before Khold were Khold, they were an equally kick ass, but sonically quite different outfit called Tulus. After several records Tulus got an image overhaul as well as a sonic one, and become Khold, their new sound much more, hence the black metal Nirvana reference, and their look, well as we've mentioned in past reviews, probably the coolest looking frontman we've seen, wearing some sort of black furry skirt, a black turtleneck, then face painted black just up to his nose, so it looks like some black entity is creeping up his body, the top half of his bald head painted white. The effect is quite striking. Anyway, we reviewed the most recent Tulus record a while back, assuming Khold were on hold, but it seems both bands can exist simultaneously, all the better for us!!
So Khold is back, and their sound is pretty similar, the riffs simple and almost groovy, the tempos a slow pounding chug for the most part, barring the occasional almost blast, the vocals a raspy howl, the drums simple and stripped down, the bass a deep throb, in fact the more Khold progress it's hard to say what even makes them black metal anymore beyond their pedigree. This new disc sound almost more punk than metal, some sort of crusty, metallic garage punk, albeit with a wicked huge percussion. The hooks aren't as obvious this time around, which on the one hand is a bit of a bummer, but on the other makes this record sound a lit meaner, and harder, and well, a bit more punk. Although repeated listens have definitely revealed some hidden killer hooks that stick in your head like crazy: the tangled little angular bridge in "Forrykt", the strange melodic almost post-rock-isms of "Rekviem". And weirdly enough the more we listen, the more the vocals start reminding us of Killdozer, who we LOVE. And the bottom line with any metal record, black or otherwise, is that it's all about the riffs, and the riffs here KILL.
This is probably not the kind of record that will appeal to most black metallers, way too groovy and punky, and not enough buzz or blast, but for the rest of you, who might be into some slightly blackened, heavy as fuck, catchy, punky metallic rock, Khold might be right up your alley.
MPEG Stream: "Forrykt"
MPEG Stream: "Hundre Ar Gammal"
MPEG Stream: "Der Kulden Rar"

DEATHSPELL OMEGA Manifestations 2000-2001 (Northern Heritage) cd 15.98
It's only been a year since we last heard from Deathspell Omega, but it feels like forever. Their last record, Fas - Ite, Maledicti, In Ignem Aeternum, still ranks as one of our favorite black metal records ever. A truly original blast of gnarled avant black metal, as true and grim and buzzy and black as any black metal we've heard, but rife with strange chords, and distinctly non-metal phrasings, convoluted arrangements, an incredible raw black metal record, all tangled up with something much more fractured and experimental. The record before that, Kenose, was even more far out, transforming their black buzz into something approaching a blackened Slint, a strange twisted metallic post rock.
This disc however takes us was back to the beginning of this century, and compiles a handful of super rare splits and compilation tracks, from the disc they shared with Mutiilation, their split with Moonblood, and the Black Crushing Sorcery compilations. The sound here, based on the dates, and the fact that these tracks predate new vocalist Mikka Aspa from Clandestine Blaze and Fleshpress joining the band, are sonically much more in line with their earlier records Infernal Battles and especially Inquisitors of Satan. The first two tracks from the Mutiilation split find the band right at the cusp, clinging to their grim raw roots, but allowing their music to sprawl, the chords get more and more dissonant, the arrangements more complex, the overall sound thicker and more lush, but still rough and black. The three tracks from the Moonblood split go back to 2000 and thus sound much more raw and straight ahead, total early nineties Norwegian BM worship, a definite Darkthrone vibe for sure, but is suits them, the soaring buzz, the blasting beats, all wound up into long epics, peppered with woozy midtempo breakdowns, the riffs slippery and atonal, the overall sound a super smoldering lo-fi blackness. The final track from the Black Crushing Sorcery is more of the same, another solid chunk of classic nineties sounding black metal, insectoid guitar buzz, furious blast beats, even a weird punky Darkthrone breakdown partway through.
Essential and classic, another glimpse into the past, revealing more of the black roots that would eventually take hold and produce the fearsome black beast that is Deathspell today.
MPEG Stream: "Insanity Supreme"
MPEG Stream: "Black Crushing Sorcery"

ARCKANUM Antikosmos (Moribund Cult) cd 16.98
We've long been fans of Swedish one man black metal band Arckanum. Even those who haven't heard his music, probably remember the 'band' photos, which always featured a cloaked creature with a deformed troll-like face, huge hook nose, and carrying a massive staff. Some folks were put off by this bit of theatricality, probably giving them visions of the much cheesier Mortiis. But then they were missing out. This Swede kicked out the classic black metal jams, nothing avant, or experimental really, barring the occasional ambient interlude, but just pure raw grim blackness. With a lo-fi production and a great crusty black sound, Arckanum released 3 full lengths in the late nineties, and since then, it's been nothing but a handful of splits and eps. So we were pretty excited for the first Arckanum full length in ten years, and we were not disappointed.
The sound, at its core is similar to the classic Arckanum sound, but the production is massive, the guitars thick and monstrous, the drums pounding and brutal, the whole vibe is much more sleek and streamlined and 'produced', but thankfully manages to retain most of its grimness and blackness, although now the music is imbued with a power never present before, and if anything, dare we say it, a new found groove.
We've heard this record compared to discs by Craft and Inquisition, among others, but we can't help hearing a little Khold, which as far as we're concerned is actually a good thing. Take the album opener, after a creeped out drone-y intro, and a swirl of guitar buzz and cymbal sizzle, the song launches into a furious blast, which sounds punkier and crustier that we remember, and again, groovier. It has much to do with the chord progression, as on the surface this is still all blasting beats and buzzing guitars, but then the deal is sealed with the bridge, where the guitars and drums lock into a weird droney, almost poppy part that sounds like it could have come from a Torche song! And that vibe, those melodies, those subtle touches are present throughout, even at its most intense and furious, the band easily will slip in a subtle, yet impossibly catchy hook or phrase, almost like they don't even know they're doing it, some mysterious musical force manifesting itself, hidden among the black brambles and jagged harsh heaviness. Then there's a track like "Rokulfargnyr", which is primarily a strange clipped staccato guitar chug, the drums locked in, peppered with dynamics, but it almost sounds like some sort of fractured math rock. Even when the song kicks in for real, the stop start guitar, the super technical drumming, eventually gives way to more soaring melodic buzzing blackness. "Nakjeptir" is all eighties groove and chug, laced with cool stretches of black dissonance. "Eksortna" is just guitar, distorted and melodic, unfurling a stately court-of-the-king style melody,
while closer "Formala" is classic blackened doom, very spacious and sprawling, with some weird drumming, a killer main riff, and an outro of demonic murmurs and buzzing distorted rumbles.
This disc has been getting crazy play around here, and has had us revisiting the older records as well, which sound even better than we remember. Lots of folks we know have been talking about Antikosmos as BM record of the year, and while we still have other contenders to consider, we're definitely inclined to agree that this could very well crack the top ten. Maybe even the top five...
MPEG Stream: "Svarti"
MPEG Stream: "Daudmellin"
MPEG Stream: "Rokulfargnyr"

DARSOMBRA Eternal Jewel (Public Guilt) cd 12.98
Break out the headphones, relax the body, and close the eyes, it's another one from the devastatingly droney and dark Darsombra, whose debut Ecdysis disc we really liked a couple years back. We like this just as much, maybe more. There's a great deal of melancholic, mesmeric beauty in Darsombra's isolationist grinding and evil ambient shimmer. We can imagine Darsombra's human operator, Brian Daniloski from the Maryland metalcore band Meatjack, up late at night alone in his home studio, lights dim, wreathed in smoke, hunched over his guitar and synth and effects and whatever else he uses to conjure this music, willing himself off into another place, out into the void of space, riding the dense waves of his own creation, returning only at dawn with another track for this album finished.
Let's discuss these tracks, but not in order... The echoey minimalism of "Drops Of Sorrow" is simply glorious, it's Riley or Reich from a psychdronedoom perspective. Or perhaps krautrock's Achim Reichel & The Machines playing Black Boned Angel!? Elsewhere, there's more gloom and glory, from the hushed sinister soundtrack melodies of opener "Auguries" to the haunting, spacey drone-whispers of "Night's Black Agents" - this disc's longest track at 17:34, reminding us of the 'Vox Insecta' work of old AQ fave Q.R. Ghazala. Then, with an intro of ommming voices (or synth) there's "Lamentings / Auguries", featuring sparse melodic guitar weepery buried beneath fuzzed out layers of deep, electronic drone and distortion. Again, this definitely sounds like it would make good soundtrack material for some eerie, arty Italian horror flick. And further cementing our love affair with the abstract attractions of Eternal Jewel, the calmly vibrating "Incarnadine" brings some rays of light to this disc at its very end, with its peacefully repetitive clusters of gentle chimings over a quiet drone.
Packaged by Public Guilt in a nice black, gothically graceful gatefold sleeve, this is definitely recommended. Imagine Expo '70 cloaked in black, performing a seance with Tony Conrad and Lustmord, and you'll have an idea of how much we must like this!
MPEG Stream: "Night's Black Agents"
MPEG Stream: "Drops Of Sorrow"
MPEG Stream: "Lamentings / Auguries"

NOISM +/- (Crucial Blast) cd 13.98
So here's the deal. Nothing is heavy enough for you. Nothing is fast or furious enough. Hardcore techno, drill and bass, none of those offer up the beats you need, none of that stuff kicks your ass. And grindcore, no matter how heavy or fucked up or insane, is just not brutal enough. Sound about right?
Have you been loving the Drumcorps shit, did you go nuts for that Drum:Machinegun comp? A damaged and delirious hybrid of metal and spastic blown out beats what you're craving? Well have we got the thing for you.
Japanese duo Noism. Two dudes, a guitar and a drum machine. And all hyperbole aside, this is probably the most fucked up, furious and frenzied grindmetaltechnowhatthefuck you will ever hear. Imagine Drumcorps remixing Orthrelm, but then the results tossed in a computer, chopped up and spit out double time. Or along those same lines, take your favorite grind records and spastic drill and bass 12"s, throw those in that same computer, smash them to bits (and bytes) and then compress them all into 21 minutes of face melting tech(no) metal fury. There are no songs really, well there are, but they, super convoluted fucked up alien 'songs', no 'arrangements' (see: songs). Just lighting speed riffing, squiggly guitars all over the place, blasting 300+ bpm beats that stutter and skip and skitter, all tangled up into a blurred grinding metallic beat heavy onslaught, it sort of sounds like free jazz played by a malfunctioning drummachine and a robot guitarist set on shred. Like if you had some computer that was meant to emulate the music of any performer, and you entered Masayuki, Takayanagi and Mick Barr and Venetian Snares, and it overloaded the program and cause the mainframe to fail, but somehow it still spit out a result, it might sound a little like this, Which Is, as far as our iron ears are concerned, a very very good thing. Recommended, if you think you can handle it...
MPEG Stream: "Man-I-C"
MPEG Stream: "DTM"
MPEG Stream: "Zaporojets"
MPEG Stream: "Death-Meta-Logic"

BIRCHVILLE CAT MOTEL Second Curved Earth Destroyer (Celebrate Psi Phenomenon) 3cd-r 30.00
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
The first Curved Earth Destroyer collected a handful of live Birchville performances, from all over the world, spanning enough years, that we were able to hear the gradual development of BCM, from more ethereal tripped out ambient drones, to something much more aggressive and almost metallic.
This second installment doesn't offer the same development, or such a wide breadth of sound. It's simply a collection of various stellar performances, culled from the last three years. Seven long sets, spread out over three discs, recorded all over, New Zealand, France, Australia, Hong Kong and a couple from the USA, some of the song titles sound familiar enough that they seem like variations of songs from other discs ("Dead Call Home Their Birds" instead of the other way around, "Gunpowder Church Of Satan", etc.) but it hardly matters, the sound of BCM is so gorgeous, so epic and organic, whether it's a glistening sheet of high end shimmer, or a corrosive slab of crumbling blistering crunch, the sounds are deftly stretched into expansive sonic vistas, some sun dappled and dreamy, others blackened and harrowing.
Disc 3 (no need to go in numerical order right?) features the above mentioned tracks, recorded in France and NZ, and finds BCM, aka Campbell Kneale, doing the epic Ur-drone, long tones held forever, layered and layered, both tracks washed out and shimmery, the second, almost orchestral, both completely mesmerizing, like an even more epic Sunroof!
Disc 2 begins with the 29 minute "Junkshop Rainbow Superserpent", a live collaboration with 1/3 Octave Band, the first half of the track, much more folky and abstract than usual, before building to a super dramatic crescendo of bowed metals and feeding back guitars, before unwinding into a field of bell like tones, and swooping backwards FX. Tripped out and haunting. The other two tracks, recorded in Hong Kong and NZ respectively, feature still more static ambience, the first like a cd-r minimal drone version of Arvo Part, glimmering, glistening, shimmering stretches of slow drifting sounds, soft overtones, gentle buried barely-there melodies, the second, much more lo-fi, lots of static and buzz and hiss and fuzz, but beneath it all lurk little warbly melodies, wheezing layers of whir and whisper, and a deep droning rumble.
Disc 1 is all USA, recorded in Rochester and Chicago, the Rochester track is nearly 25 minutes of slow building ambient clatter, blurred and smeared into long tones, a warm whirring drone over the top, all tangled up with low end melodies that creep in gradually, the percussive clatter transforming into a cloud of tinkling chimes wreathed by the increasingly corrosive buzz. The Chicago track is another wall of static buzz, this one spends its first half murky and muted, before blossoming into a flurry of whirling buzz and more distant tinkling chimes, before finally fading out into a super minimal lo-fi drift.
Packaged in that instantly recognizable CPSIP wallpaper style sleeve, with three inserts containing minimal liner notes for each disc, and of course SUPER LIMITED! We did get a bunch of these, but as always, these very well might be the last copies we can get, so grab one while you can...
MPEG Stream: "Dead Call Home Their Birds Live"
MPEG Stream: "Gunpowder Church Of Satan"

BLACK BONED ANGEL Dashed Upon Stones (Battlecruiser) cd-r 12.98
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
We've never seen Black Boned Angel perform live, but judging from the photo on the insert of this disc, the band might owe SUNNO))) some royalties, as the image features one of the Black Boned Angels (yep, now there are three) in a monk like robe, wielding an axe, but also poised to strike a drum! But fuck it, robes were a part of rituals long before SUNNO))), and BBA have their own ritualistic thing going on. Especially considering someone is simultaneously playing guitar AND drums.
The trio of BBA, now featuring not only main man Campbell Kneale on guitar, drums and tapes, and James Kirk on guitar and "amprifier worshippo" (?), but also now Jules Desmond on bass guitar, offer up the first recorded evidence we've heard of the three piece BBA on this here super limited TOUR ONLY cd-r, we got all the copies the band had left after their Australian tour, so once these are gone, that's it.
One single track, 34 minutes, beginning with nine minutes of washed out staticky buzz. For a minute there (actually for 9 minutes) we thought this might be it. One long buzz. Which would be fine, we love that stuff, but right around the 10 minute mark, the band kick into a slow motion doomy plod, the guitars thick and viscous, the drums a simple occasional plod (dude is also playing guitar!), the trio lurch and lumber, a woozy, spaced out tar pit dirge, the guitars throbbing and crumbling, eventually, blurring into a nearly static whirl of low end sound, an industrial soundscape of muted clatter and textured buzz, smeared into a slowly decaying outro.
Again, this is CRAZY LIMITED, pretty sure it's OUT OF PRINT, and thus these are most likely, the last copies ever...
MPEG Stream: "Dashed Upon Stones"

GODFLESH Streetcleaner (Kreation) lp 16.98
It's weird to think that amongst the legions of fans out there who LOVE Jesu, there are probably loads of folks who don't realize that Jesu was born out of the mighty behemoth that was Godflesh. Justin Broadrick, who started off in grind pioneers Napalm Death, made a quick pitstop in Head Of David, and eventually struck out on his own in Godflesh. These days, drum machines and metal are not strange bedfellows, but back in the day, this was some seriously what-the-fuck action. Metalheads and punk rockers alike were confused, but got over it pretty quick once they realized that Godflesh might just be the heaviest fiercest thing they had ever heard. And Godflesh at their heaviest was to be found right here, on Streetcleaner, adorned with the now iconic image of crucified men on crossed in front of a cascade of burning lava (a frame from the genius movie Altered States), this record, originally released in 1989, still sounds as fearsome as ever. And now that we have a handful of Jesu records to reference, it's easy to hear that some of the seeds that would eventually blossom into the dreamy shoegazy metallic bliss of Jesu, were present even back then, albeit buried beneath a black hole crush of churning downtuned riffage and blistering skull rattling programmed beats. Our old three sentence, 14 word review of this still says it best:
"One of the heaviest, scariest "metal" albums EVER. Drum machine doom death. Godflesh's best."
NOW ON VINYL!!! And holy crap if that cover doesn't look even more amazing all blown back up to its proper lp size!!
MPEG Stream: "Christbait Rising"
MPEG Stream: "Mighty Trust Krusher"

SLEESTAK Mach 2 (Total Annihilation) cd 10.98
As we mentioned before, Man Is The Bastard, one of our favorite bands ever, are not very well represented on the aQ website, mostly due to the fact that their records, and in fact almost their whole career predates the list, which we will address one of these days, maybe as their back catalog slowly gets reissued. But their musical legacy lives on, most notably in recent Record Of The Week honorees Geronimo, as well as a whole mess of other post MITB combos: Bastard Noise, Unicorn, and this here, maybe our favorite of the bunch, Sleestak.
We recently listed a triple cd set called No Skull Left Unturned, which collected a bunch of rare and unreleased tracks from various Man Is The Bastard related groups, and if you remember, we raved about Sleestak there too, and now we finally managed to track down a source for the Sleestak full lengths (the band themselves in fact!) so here you go, the last Sleestak record before the various members went on to play in Drunk On Blood, Monte Carlo 76, Slowrider, Bastard Noise, Spastic Colon, Trogotronic, Unicorn and of course Geronimo.
And listening to this Sleestak stuff, it's easy to hear the roots of what would become Geronimo, in some places the sound is uncanny, it's like a more raw, lo-fi Geronimo, which means this stuff is fucking awesome. Might as well just quote a bit from the No Skull review, since it sums up Sleestak pretty well:
What a more mellow MITB might have sounded like, an ominous low slung brutality, bass heavy dirges, moody malevolence, more a sort of beautiful brutal post rock. A loping bass line wanders through a field of hiss and hum and buzz, spacious and spare, almost like a meaner more malevolent Low or Bohren. Slowcore peppered with bursts of twisted noise freakouts, and distant bits of shortwave squiggle, a very Slint-like vibe, with the guitar locking into super hypnotic loops, over lurching downtuned bass, drifting detuned melodic fragments, if someone didn't know better, they could definitely mistake this stuff for some super obscure Touch And Go or AmRep noiserock band, indeed!
"Atomic Clock" is a slow brooder, a low slung drums and bass drift, with distorted vocals, garbled and buried in the mix, streaked with fractured electronics, interrupted by brief bursts of chaotic crunch. "Faster Than A Sleeping Bullet" is total Geronimo, a grinding metallic riff, and a super minimal bit of percussion looped and locked for nearly 5 minutes. "When In Rome..." is bass heavy riffy noise rock, howled vocals over slithery post rockisms and angular riffage. "Dumb Luck" is another track that sounds like it was lifted and re-done as Geronimo, a simple drum line, beneath a hypnotic chunk of twisted electronics. "Dumb Luck Part Two" stretches it out into something much more post rocky, with plonked and plinked piano, the drums a bit more up in the mix, still flecked with insectoid buzz. Every track here is amazing. And at least half of 'em will have you thinking Geronimo, EVERYONE who bought that Geronimo record, or who dug that No Skull comp NEEDS this. But even those of you new to the whole MITB world, and who missed out on Geronimo, Sleestak stand up pretty well on their own, a dark and fucked up mysteriously brooding, ultra heavy and sludgey, rhythmic dronerock, and while we described Geronimo as Man Is The Bastard meets This Heat, that would also pretty much apply to Sleestak, but take that equation and mix in more MITB and a whole mess of noise rock.
WAY WAY WAY recommended.
Beautifully packaged in silkscreened matchbook style packaging, with a printed insert, all housed in a thick plastic sleeve.
MPEG Stream: "Faster Than A Sleeping Bullet"
MPEG Stream: "Atomic Clock"
MPEG Stream: "When In Rome..."

V/A Trogotronic Compilation - Analog Audio Ordnance (Total Annihilation) cd 10.98
This comp is sort of an advertisement, a promotional item, which would normally turn us right off, but this disc killer, and it just so happens to be promoting a line of hand crafted 'caveman' effects, created by none other than Nelson from Man Is The Bastard, Sleestak and Geronimo. Wondering where those fucked up sounds were coming from? The damaged electronics on the Geronimo record? Well, most likely it was a Trogotronic device helping to create that racket. They look beautiful and sound even better. Check it out:
http://www.thumbprintpress.com/trogotronic.htm
So this here comp features a who's who of noise artists who apparently endorse Trogotronic. But you know what? Even if you had no clue what the hell Trogotronic was, this comp would still stomp your ass. Check out the lineup:
Geronimo, Unicorn, Sickness, Drunk On Blood, Mike Shiflet, Torso, Bastard Noise and more and more. The sleeve even lets you know which Trogotronic device was used in each specific track. We can't tell you how close we've come to blowing our paychecks on some of these noisemakers. But for now, we're happy to make do with this disc. First off, an unreleased Geronimo track, worth it right there. An awesomely creepy electronic krautrocky crawl, all crumbling and distorted, low end crunch beneath, squealing high end siren like skree. Sounds like an outtake from their full length, which it probably is, and which of course means it's awesome! Drunk On Blood, another Man Is The Bastard side project, offers up a symphony of electronic jackhammering, pounding and pulsing, almost musically, percussive and relentless, and weirdly listenable. The Sickness track is a heaving wall of analog fury, crumbling and crunchy, the Bastard Noise track is downright pretty, a sea of squelches and a distant beastlike howling, Torso unfurl some seriously creeped out hissy dronemusic, Unicorn offer up a weird symphony of shrieks and stumbling percussive clatter, Astrogenic Hallucinating spits out some fucked up, horror movie analog video game music, we could go on and on and on.
All the tracks here are pretty amazing, some textural and drone-y, others blown out and white hot, still others, rhythmic and abstract, at the very least, you'll probably listen to this like crazy and do some serious damage to your speakers, worst case though, you'll end up like us, freaking out and NEEDING some of these noisemakers for yourself, then you can do some REAL damage!
Beautifully packaged in a fold over, silkscreened sleeve.
MPEG Stream: DRUNK ON BLOOD "Flight Check"
MPEG Stream: GERONIMO "Hummingbird & Tarantula"
MPEG Stream: AUTISTATIC "Autistatic Vs. TR-Ogre Pt. 1"
MPEG Stream: SICKNESS "Days Of The Black Sun"

ASBESTOSCAPE s/t (self released) cd-r 10.98
In the wake of Jesu, and about a million other shoegazey bliss-metal combos, it's a little surprising that Asbestoscape is the first band to take that blown out dreamy heaviness to an entirely new place. Well okay, maybe not entirely, but this, the debut cd-r by this mysterious one man band is actually quite refreshing, and a handful of folks we trust are proclaiming this their record of the year. And we can see why. In a nutshell, imagine sweeping post rock epics, merged with crumbling distorted blissed out metalgaze, but now lace the whole thing with skittery programmed rhythms, bursts of stuttery jungle, stretches of shuffling downtempo grooves, it's pretty fucking great. And the sound, deconstructed, can result in two different equations, one: a metal band, a slow, fuzzy dreamy metal band, mixing in cool jungle rhythms, or two: an electronic outfit, jungle or drum and bass or whatever, incorporating guitars and post rocky melodies. Either way, the results are sublime.
But this juxtaposition, while cool, is not enough to sustain an entire record. Thankfully, Asbestoscape has a deft hand with composition too, the tracks here are dark and minor key, grand and majestic, epic and super dramatic. Instrumental of course, but never boring, the textures and melodies and rhythms more than enough to keep it interesting. It's easy to hear bits of Jesu, Mono, Explosions In The Sky, Mogwai, Nadja, but those sounds get their own unique twist, the deal sealed by flurries of spastic drum splatter, or mechanical minimal almost industrial rhythmic crunch. There are long slow building epics, the jangly guitars, shot through with high end streaks, underpinned by thick swells of muted heaviness, all held together by crystalline frameworks of programmed skitter, there are huge chugging metallic riffs gradually blurred into shimmering squalls of blissy buzz, some gorgeous slow burning dirges, that almost sound like a slowed down, prettier Godflesh (doing it almost better than Jesu), simple glistening stretches of stripped down post rock, wreathed in prismatic guitar jangle and a deep droney low end that sounds almost like strings, there's even a track that sounds like a post rock-ed chunk of dubstep. But it all works, and while in lesser hands the programmed rhythms could sound forced and gimmicky, they don't here, not only do they manage to sound organic, they also become an integral part of the Asbestoscape sound.
The more we listen to this, the more we dig it. And thankfully, as Jesu moves more and more toward M83's eighties retro revival, albeit heavier (a move we're not at all opposed to, btw) it seems like Asbestoscape are here to fill that void, in addition to offering up a new take on the post rock / metal sound that should have fans of any of the above mentioned bands freaking out big time.
MPEG Stream: "Arctic"
MPEG Stream: "Mono"
MPEG Stream: "Ashen"

HARRY PUSSY Live In Austin (Sister Skull Rekkids) cd-r 11.98
Who doesn't love Harry Pussy? Actually probably a lot of folks, but don't count us among them. One of the finest noise rock bands ever, with a strange flair for infusing their racket with something special, not melody necessarily, or musicality, something more ineffable, and something much more abrasive and harsh. But heck, female fronted noise rock was a rarity back then (and still is sadly), and Adris Hoyos, was a whirling dervish of damaged drumming and freaked out vocalizations, and their sound was totally unique, a stumbling super distorted acid fried feedback drenched blow out, and this here disc captures the band at their best, live and out of control, on their last tour, live in Texas in 1998.
The music is amazing of course. Fucking heavy as shit, a maelstrom of drum chaos and super distorted guitars, the recording SO in the red, but the best part is probably Adris' crowd baiting, so much shit talking, calling the crowd a bunch of assholes who dress like jocks, but in the same breath trying to pimp shirts and records, usually met with a chorus of "FUCK YOU"s, before launching back into an explosion of fucked up glorious pounding noise rock.
LIMITED TO ONLY 100 COPIES, but beautifully packaged in a full color sleeve, with a cool printed insert.
MPEG Stream: "Live In Austin (excerpt)"

LASCOWIEC Asgard Mysteries (Dark Hidden Productions) cd 13.98
We've been meaning to review something from this SF duo for a while now, the mysteriously monickered Z.V.H. and V.J.C, who make up the equally mysterious Lascoviec (formerly Angkor Vat). But their demos disappeared before we had the chance, and we've yet to receive the forthcoming split with Hungarian black metal masters Marblebog, but thankfully, Dark Hidden Productions has compiled their first two demos, Gesamkunstwerk and Gunshots Ring Out Over Vinland Streets, both originally released in 2006, onto one cd, and added a few bonus tracks to sweeten the deal.
Lascoviec traffic in droning, hypnotic, trance like black metal buzz, the guitars long washed out streaks, the vocals a distorted croak, often sounding like another layer of static, the melodies are melancholy and sorrowful, some tracks have programmed drums, pounding away machine like under a buzzy blurry blanket of epic majestic chordal whir, others are harsh and chaotic, with the drums lost int he mix, leaving just a thick undulating sheet of acid riffing and tortured vokills. There are plenty of clean guitars, and tranquil folky interludes, but just as many grinding ultra raw blackened dirges, the guitars thick and viscous, the vocals more of a animalistic hiss, the drums a buried throb, here and there dreamy washes of synth surface, but far from being tranquil, they're fuzzy and distorted, and slightly ominous, with a definite Tim Hecker or Philip Jeck vibe. Elsewhere the band craft weird sort of new wave sounding reverbed guitar jam, but still subtly creepy and haunting. Swirls of strings build ominous tension before exploding into super sharp jagged shards of weirdly blown out clean guitar riffing over relentless blastbeats.
And that's sort of what's so amazing about these guys, their sound varies so dramatically, from record to record, but even from song to song, sort of like the EEE stuff, the texture and the production are as critical as the songs and the riff, some are muted and murky and bassy and lo fi, others are sharp and angular, the guitars sonically are all over the place, sometimes soft and subtle, sometimes downtuned and sludgy, sometimes buzzy and brittle, the drums more often than not are buried WAY down in the mix, but that just makes the songs sound freer, as if they could fall apart or drift away at any moment.
Grim and gorgeous, twisted and intense, dramatic and a bit fucked up, long sheets of buzzed out bliss butted up against short sharp raw blasts of true blurred blackness, often getting all tangled up within the same song. What's not to like, this is some seriously amazing shit. Buzzy and black enough for the grimmest of warriors, but tripped out enough for folks into freaky outsider blackness.
Fair warning: Lasoviec are on Dark Hidden Productions, a label with dubious political leanings, and with definite ties to the Pagan Front, the hub for all things NSBM, aka National Socialist Black Metal. Although the band seem to be more concerned with themes cosmic and spiritual, nature and mythology, there are definite racist implications, the link is undeniable, so regardless of the band's stance, the label's is clear, and thus, another instance where the listener has to decide if the music trumps the possible unpleasant politics.
MPEG Stream: "I"
MPEG Stream: "II"
MPEG Stream: "Borghild Darkened"
MPEG Stream: "Outro"

HIGH MOUNTAIN TEMPEL The Glass Bead Game (Lotus House) cd-r 7.98
Part three in the ongoing series of limited cd-r explorations from mysterious drone combo High Mountain Tempel, and like the two before it, the band continue to delve into some murky sonic underworld, again presenting loooong songs, each separated by brief sonic interludes, this disc seems feature more actual vocals, the opening track features a processed voice, that sounds a bit like throat singing, or a Speak And Spell, intoning some arcane message, interwoven with long drawn out tones, and a thick ropy buzz, super dark and intense and atmospheric. Elsewhere sampled voices surface, there are bits of chanting here and there, all peppered throughout the disc. But even with the extra voices, the focus here is still on dark, lugubrious, extended dronescapes.
The sound of High Mountain Tempel is probably closest to Expo '70, as their various permutations of dronemusic seem to have a definite krautrock vibe, that gives the sound a sort of spaced out quality, and a subtle propulsion, but unlike Expo '70, HMT seem to have a distinct Eastern influence, much of the music is meditative and subtly dramatic, a bit soundtracky, and some of it sounds like it could be Japanese. Especially the way field recordings are incorporated into the sounds. Giving everything a definite texture, some of it sounding like it was perhaps recorded live in some hilltop temple. Which we would imagine is the idea.
Not sure what else to say actually. This is indeed fantastic, brooding and malefic, but also shimmery and dreamy, sonically it has much in common with the first two installments, so definitely check out those reviews to read more about their 'sound'.
Needless to say, fans of the drone and folks into the current crop of cd-r soundscapers will for sure dig this, but like the other HMT discs, this is more than simple drone music, this is ritualistic alchemical soundwork, one can almost imagine stumbling across a group of cloaked figures huddled around a fire in a forest clearing, tossing various powders into the flames, causing the fire to change color and cast beastlike shadows on the branches above, and this is the sound filtering through the forest like a black moonlit fog...
SUPER LIMITED of course, packaged beautifully in a foldover silkscreened sleeve, gold metallic on red on the outside, black on red on the inside.
MPEG Stream: "Humming In The Night's Skull"

EXPO '70 Black Ohms (Beta-Lactam Ring) cd 16.98
As regular readers of the aQ list can no doubt attest to, we sure do love droning guitars. Whether downtuned and mostly motionless, or frenzied and buzzing, or blown out and shimmery, there's just something about the sound of those steel strings vibrating projected through massive walls of amplification. There's the primal primeval sound itself, the actual drone, a sound found everywhere in nature, then there's the power, the amplification, this transformed sound. The drone is most certainly linked to the machinations of life and the universe, we can only imagine, the Big Bang resulted in an aeons-long drone that hung over the nascent Earth, the sound of insects, the growls of beasts, the rumble of thunder, the white noise of the surf, all harnessed and sculpted into a more modern, more human experience of sound, into actual music. But the best drone music, with the most resonance, is the music that conflates the two. That creates a listening experience, wherein we find ourselves drifting off, sometimes to some man made universe, of songs and sounds and music, sometimes to someplace wholly other, where the music looses itself from the strictures of composition and arrangement, and is allowed to float freely, to drift. It's then, that the music maker becomes more than a musician, more than a rock band, almost more like and esoteric, ethereal wrangler of sound. The magic is creating music, that sounds like it wasn't 'created' at all, but instead, was discovered, unearthed, or if created, not from guitars and 4-tracks and drums, but from some strange energy, or some alternate universe, the sounds become glimpses into other worlds, or peeks into the music maker's soul. In creating these sorts of sounds, the listener is inexorably drawn in, and pulled quite willingly into a whole new dimension, where unlike the creator, who may have meticulously assembled the various elements, they are allowed to wander, and wonder, to float and drift and get lost, to allow the sounds to unleash emotions, to open up their mind, their hear, maybe in some cases even their soul.
As you might imagine, and we've mentioned it before, the drone is a mercurial beast, and one not wrangled easily. There are plenty of comers, who feel like once you've conjured the drone, it does the work for you, but such is not the case, as is proven time and time again, by sonic alchemists like Expo '70, whose take on the drone is less monochromatic, less one dimensional, whose dronemusic is infused with elements of krautrock, spacerock, postrock, but all woven into vast black expanses of sound.
Even more than past Expo '70 releases, Black Ohms manages to create some impossible world of sound, that is at once dark and sinister and foreboding, yet somehow dreamlike and serene, a collection of tracks woven into a seemingly continuous sonic drift, beginning with a deep, almost corrosive buzz, pulsing and undulating, shot through with streaks of melody, layered and textured, looped and hypnotic, heavy and dense and in its own minimal way, quite brutal, before giving way to something much more tranquil, a sea of glimmering, harmonics, and deep drifting tones, here the guitar is revealed as just that, a guitar, its abstract chords and minimal riffage, clipped and effected, draped in reverb and delay, and allowed to unfurl into softly propulsive rhythms, and spider web-like textures, again, infused with subtle melody, and blurred, burnished shadings.
The record wanders through miniature otherworlds of atonal melody, of machine like click and chitter, fifties computer bleeps and bloops, soft chiming jammy summer sun guitars, before returning to the deep, dark drone for a nearly 35 minute two part finale. The first part, a fifteen minute return to the sound of the album opener, the guitar again distorted and dark, not so much riffing as buzzing, a Niblockian soundscape of overtones and harmonics, a warm blackened bed for the ethereal melodic drift above, streaks of glimmering melody, soft stretches of wispy ambience, laced with an almost buried, looped guitar figure, all subtly rhythmic, a distant throb, like the pulse of some buried giant, muted and mysterious, but supporting the whole delicate structure.
The second, a 20 minute slow burn, a crystalline assemblage of barely there rhythms, deep layers of shimmering drone, this is the sound of a million dronemusic cd-r's fully realized, a smoldering chunk of minimal propulsion, rife with strange, tape speeds shift, but instead of jarring, it only manages to make the sound woozy, slightly alien, underwater, glimmering melodies, sparkling like black diamonds, fields of soft static like clouds of tiny insects, deep soft swells like the ebb and flow of some otherworldy tide.
Imagine the most minimal krautrock record you own, dubbed over and over and over onto the shittiest tapes possible, left in the sun, then played back on a car stereo, with only one woofer, but then render that in ear popping hi fi. The sound may seem murky and muted, but it is most definitely by design, there is nothing low fidelity about the sound of Expo '70, because within the meticulously and deftly obscured sound world, lurk all manner of sonic mysteries, each suspended in an impossibly beautiful blurred constellation of sound, which in turn is left to drift across a vast expanse of Black Ohms.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!
MPEG Stream: "Lysergic Sunrise"
MPEG Stream: "Mind Echo Unit"

MANSON, CHARLES Sings (ESP-Disk) cd 14.98
Back in print and back in stock!
Poor misunderstood Charlie Manson. Visionary, musician, troubadour, murderer. Wait, one of those things he is not. Murderer. That's right, let's not forget that Manson committed no murders himself, it was his 'Family' that did 'em. Which of course insured that these recordings would be both way more infamous than they would be otherwise, but at the same time would be poison to any one who agreed to release them. Recorded a couple years before the Tate-LaBianca murders, these recordings have a rich convoluted history: it was rumored that the intended victim of the murders was in fact a record producer that rejected this record, and every producer approached to release them later recieved death threats, and it was later proven that much more succesful musicians than Manson had been targeted for assasination! Phew. You'd never know it listening to this album. In fact, in a blind listening test, you'd be hard pressed to pick this out as the work of a soon to be incarcerated cult leader / mass murderer. Reverb drenched beatniky psychedelic freekfolk, sort of hippy and trippy but really pretty great. And Manson's voice is really nice, a little rough, a little raw, but warm and rich. The tracks range from gorgeous lilting dream folk to tripped out beatnik jams, to sixties psych rock, complete with bongos, acoustic guitar, strange clattery percussion, noodly electric leads, all with lots of delay and reverb giving the whole thing a rich shimmery vibe. Not all that surprising as Manson was BIG into music. Read any of the Brian Wilson / Beach Boys bios, and you'll find the Boys spending a great deal of time hanging with Manson, who seemed to always be a fixture at big Beach Boys bashes, and threw wild parties at his desert hideaway Spahn Ranch. And indie rockers have been obsessed with Manson Sings for years, always talking it up as a lost folk gem and sometimes even covering Manson's songs (the Lemonheads do a killer (sorry) version of "Home Is Where You're Happy").
Fans of the current crop of indie hippy forest folk, like Devendra, Feathers, Wooden Wand, Fursaxa and the like should realize, if they don't already, and whether they like it or not, that they have a freak folk father figure in the form of one Charles Manson...
MPEG Stream: "Look At Your Game Girl"
MPEG Stream: "Mechanical Man"
MPEG Stream: "Home Is Where You're Happy"

MIJ Yodeling Astrologer (ESP-Disk) cd 14.98
Just when we thought all the weird dusty corners of strange and magical sounds had been uncovered from the vast archives of the ESP label, something new to us, shiny and unbelievably wonderful gets unearthed. MIJ is the strangely cryptic moniker of Jim Holberg, (or on second thought not so strange as we just realized, it's his name spelled backwards!) who was discovered in Washington Square Park on a hot summer day in 1969 yodeling and playing guitar by ESP label head Bernard Stoller. But this wasn't any country western or Swiss Alps yodeling, this was some freaked out high-keening spacey Martian kind of yodeling. The kind that cuts through time and space and penetrates your subconscious. Blown away by his street performance, Stoller invited Holberg into the studio the next day to record a full length album and in just three hours with an array of echo effects and a patient and agreeable engineer, the Yodeling Astrologer was born. Apparently Holberg had explained to Stoller that after being injured in an auto-accident that had fractured his skull and impaired his hearing, his perceptions became altered and he began to do things musically that he couldn't comprehend but they somehow worked, and indeed they do. With both voice and guitar reverbed to the nth degree, this is some Donovan meet Dreamies meets Curt Boetchner of The Millenium psych-folk magic. So awesome and beautiful, weird and dreamy, with well-written songs and just enough freaky yodeling that won't scare off the folks who might be put off by the concept of, well, freaky yodeling. We've been playing this nearly everyday, it's so good. So Highly Recommended!
MPEG Stream: "Two Stars"
MPEG Stream: "Grok (Martian Love Call)"
MPEG Stream: "Never Be Free"

VELEBNY, KAREL SHQ (ESP-Disk) cd 14.98
The first thing you notice about this ESP reissue is the amazing cover photo, featuring the artist, with a sort of Hitler moustache, sunglasses and sideburns, in a hospital bed after hitting a tree in his car. The poor soul in the bed is Karel Velebny, one of the most prominent composers in Czech, who when invited to record for ESP was asked by label head Bernard Stollmann to "Take it as far out as you can". So far so good.
And while the record itself isn't really THAT far out, it is a pretty fantastic chunk of flute flecked free jazz, light on the skronk, heavy on bop and mood and texture. The opener, "The Uhu Sleeps Only During The Day" starts out all hushed and atmospheric, mostly vibes and fluttery flute, rubbery bass, lots of space, the instruments drifting in space, a wild flute freakout ushers in the band, and away we go, the drums shuffle and skitter, the flute ships wildly over the top, the bass and piano all tangled up, the vibes anchoring the whole track. The second track "Joachim Is Our Friend" is another cool groove, lots of vibes, Velebny handles both vibes and sax (as well as occasional clarinet), a whole lot more sax this time around, some cool stretches of just drums and vibes, with a sort of far out exotica feel, and a super tripped out bass solo.
"Beetles On The Head" begins with some cool saxophone harmonies, before slipping once again into some serious post Bird bop, the sound is wildly melodic, dense and complex, with a serious groove. In "Waldi On The Castle Steps", Velebny and his crew channel the spirit of Ornette Coleman, banging out a super dynamic, and ultra rhythmic workout, culminating in a bad ass drum solo. And finally, the record closer, "Andulko Safarova" finishes off with a somber elegiac drift, all long tones and notes, lots of moaning low end, strange harmonics, until the instruments drop out, leaving a cacophony of creaks and croaks, which gives way to what sounds like detuned guitar, until the flute begins a flight of fancy over deep low droning tones, creating woozy harmonies beneath a brief haunting spoken outro. Very strange for sure, and pretty far out after all.
MPEG Stream: "The Uhu Sleeps Only During The Day"
MPEG Stream: "Joachim Is Our Friend"
MPEG Stream: "Andulko Safarova"

SKIN HORSE s/t (self released) cd-r 9.98
Local folks may have seen these guys tearing up stages around town. Although maybe tearing up isn't precisely what these guys do. They're much more of a brooding behemoth. But they're much more than that. Almost confusingly so (but in a good way!) Anyway, Skin Horse are a trio who traffic in long stretches of plodding doom, mathy jangle, and epic post rock, laced with haunting atmospherics and deep black ambience.
This 3 song cd-r is their debut, and each of the three tracks is totally different, and in some cases almost sound like different bands, but somehow, the tracks do manage to fit together, a little disjointedly, but still strangely cohesive.
The opener begins with a sheet of guitar noise under static and strange voices, soaring harmonics, and rumbling drones, when the band do finally kick in, it's a sort of slowcore, dronedoom hybrid. Plodding and downtuned and heavy, but weirdly melodic, the guitars heavy and abstract, the drums a caveman pound, vocals a harsh shriek, Khanate fans will be all over this, as will all ultradoomlords.
But only maybe until the second track, which begins with dark minor key guitar jangle, which erupts into some awesomely nineties sounding mathrock, all clean guitars, and convoluted arrangements, before locking into a spiraling freakout, all tribal rhythms, and squealing feedback, a stuttering riff and swirls of FX, launching immediately into the final track, another blast of angular clean guitar mathrock, but structure like doom, so the chords ring out, the drums crash, but there's tons of space, some super abstract arrangements, killer dynamics, all wrapped around a super intense main minor key melody, the kind of stuff we could listen to forever, before again, locking into an extended outro, a cool woozy chugging groove, that eventually gives way to a brief stretch of moody Slintish drift to finish off.
We've been inundated with post rock metal bands, or post metal or whatever, but Skin Horse are as far as we can remember the first band to fuse math rock with serious doom metal, and we're definitely up for hearing more.
Packaged in hand sewn, hand screened red or black pouches, LIMITED TO 200 COPIES, each one hand numbered.
MPEG Stream: "Confined To Shadows"

SMORZANDO Smrad (Midwinter) cassette 9.98
From the same label that brought us the damaged depressive blackened genius of Happy Days, and the melancholic doom-ed black metal of Leaden, comes this, the first release from Swiss outfit Smorzando, who craft a strange and haunting world of melancholy black metal, mixing the creepy drone-y miserablism of Burzum, with strange abstract post rock, and super blown out in the red production, creating something both black and brutal, fucked up and mysterious, with a super unique sound that is as much noise rock or post rock as it is black metal.
The drums are simple, the guitars go from distant minimal jangle, to blown out crumbling distortion, the melody is a simple keyboard suspended in a sea of black buzz, the vocals go from guttural growl to hysterical shriek, but are buried under swells of super distorted  in-the-red, shoegazey blackness. Occasionally, the songs lurch into furious blasts, but for the most part just lurch and lumber, lonely and forlorn, the deep bass and strange melodies sound like foghorns, the production wrapping everything in a grey fuzzy fog, the guitars effected and warbly, sometimes sounding almost electronic, other times sounding like a black avalanche of sound, always underpinned by a lilting melancholy melody or some ghostly ambience, so gorgeous and sad and heavy and absolutely beautiful. One of our new favorite slabs of depressive doom drenched black metal misery for sure.
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES. Each packaged in a super cool plastic clamshell cassette case, with haunting black and white artwork, and printed black and white fold out insert.

WILDILDLIFE Live On WFMU (Crucial Blast) cd-r 8.98
While we were sad to see our coworker Matt leave us a while back, if it meant helping unleash the true force of the wild beast that is Wildildlife upon the world, then we're happy to have done our part.
As kick ass as their most recent full length was, playing live is where Wildildlife truly destroy, three mild mannered hairy dudes transformed into a fierce six legged, six armed, long haired, face melting, tripped out drug addled behemoth. And while their most recent tour was rife with drama, broken bones, stolen equipment and extortionist cabbies, the shows that did take place were the sort to not be soon forgotten. And while they were on the East Coast, they got to play live on the radio, on Brian Turner's show on WFMU, and this is the proof that it did indeed take place. Hard to imagine a band can kick up such a shitstorm with no crowd to react to, holed up in a little glass room, but Wilildlife bring it, hard.
They open with "Metal", from their full length, and manage to make it sound even more freaked out, the effected little girl vox have them channeling the Butthole Surfers even more than usual, the extended free-jam outro goes on for minutes, letting the band explore the outer reaches, before launching into another downtuned tribal workout. The sound is surprisingly clean, a few folks here like it even better than the record proper. Some of the songs are oldies, revamped and supercharged, some are altered versions of tracks from 6, those creepy high pitched vocals return throughout, and the band is on fire, the songs complex and convoluted but hooky and catchy as fuck, folks who bought the full length will for sure dig this. And if you've yet to discover the mysteries of Wildildlife, this is as good a place to start as anyŠ
Plus there's a pretty funny interview with the trio at the end...
LIMITED TO 300 COPIES, in a cool full color, three panel oversized cover, featuring some pictures of the band on tour, including an awesome shot of Matt perusing porn in the van, as well as a band member's button that says it all: "Let's face itŠ I'm cute!"
MPEG Stream: "Metal"
MPEG Stream: "Grinder"

DARKTHRONE Frostland Tapes (Peaceville) 3cd 29.00
Released to coincide with the band's 21st anniversary (!!!), Frostland Tapes collects a bunch of super sough after rarities, lost and live recordings and most importantly (at least for Darkthrone fanatics), the unreleased instrumental version of their Goatlord album.
As much as we're tempted to say every metalhead probably should own almost anything these guys release, this one, while pretty fucking excellent, might just be more of a 'For Fans Only' sort of thing. Although if you've never heard Darkthrone before, and want to jump in way back at the beginning, and experience the band through rough lo-fi live recordings or raw primitive demos, then hell yeah, this will definitely do the job. But if that sounds a bit too intense of an introduction, then try either Transylvanian Hunger or A Blaze In The Northern Sky, we guarantee you'll be hooked, you can always come back for this one later!
For the rest of you, who have all the records proper, odds are you're gonna want this too... the 1988 Land Of Frost demo, the 1988 A New Dimension demo, the Thulcandra 1989 demo, the legendary 1989 Cromlech demo, a 1990 show recorded live in Denmark, and of course a rare instrumental version of Goatlord recorded in 1991. Lots of songs you know, some you probably don't, varying degrees of fidelity, but c'mon it's Darkthrone, the more raw the better!!!!
Housed in a super fancy hardcover book style package with tons of rare photos, liner notes and a funny (aren't they all?) interview with Fenriz...
MPEG Stream: "Land Of Frost"
MPEG Stream: "Thulcandra"
MPEG Stream: "The Watchtower"
MPEG Stream: "A Blaze In The Northern Sky"

GLORY FCKN SUN Spectra (Tipped Bowler Tapes) lp 16.98
There really is something about music from New Zealand. We used to think it was sort of shorthand cheapshot music journalism, comparing everything to the Dead C, and lumping all these disparate sounding bands together based entirely on locale, but dammit if the more we listen to this stuff, the more it does seem to be true. Take this Glory Fckn Sun lp, the latest chunk of sweet dreamy noise from New Zealanders Antony Milton, Ben Spiers and Simon O'Rorke. As we were listening to this, all sorts of other bands came to mind, but when we thought about it more than a second, and listened really closely, we realized that this music could not have come from anywhere else. A blind listening, and we're fairly sure, even if we couldn't name the band, we would have immediately known New Zealand.
None of that is to say this record isn't unique or its own entity, or that it sounds like everything else from NZ, it most certainly doesn't, but it does share much sonically, and texturally, and there's just something ineffable that makes the music of GFS distinctly New Zealand.
Regardless, it's a big glorious fucking soft noise explosion, beginning with soft cymbal swirls and rumbling low wend, lots of effects, and deep buried melodies. Long streaks of buzzing metallic skree skitters over bits of clatter and clang, all held in place by a field of creaking metal on metal shimmer, murky vocals swimming in swirling pools of crumbling distortion. If you need references, think of some lost record on Corpus Hermeticum in the nineties, Surface Of The Earth maybe, a softened Dead C, muted and swathed in electric crackle, the whole thing a glorious whirling abyss of sound peppered with the clank and clunk of mini pipe fights, and twisted atonal chords, chiming harmonies, all layered and spread out into gritty streaks of droning abstract, slightly noisy beauty.
Pressed on clear red vinyl, housed in a striking chipboard sleeve hand screened, two color, and of course LIMITED TO 300 COPIES!!

MOSS Sub Templum (Rise Above) 2lp 31.00
Finally this dooooooooomy Record Of The Week from list #295 is available as a deluxe double lp!!
It's been a while since we've had to employ multiple 'o's in a review. A bit of a death of doom it seems. Or at least the sort of doom that requires all those extra 'o's. A loyal customer of ours even whipped up this "doom chart" based on our usage of multiple 'o'd doom in reviews!
And if memory serves, Moss was one of the bands that routinely got described as doooom, or doooooooooom, and sometimes even doooooooooooooooooooooooom. So we were all ready to put finger to key and just let the 'o's roll out, one after the other after the other, until we felt we had conveyed the crushing doom of Moss. That is until we pressed play, and were treated to "Ritus", a five and a half minute soundscape of whirring synths and washed out ambience, of cymbal sizzle and proggy keyboard drones, of whispered voices and buzzing shimmer. Hmmm. The liner notes say it's inspired by Doris Norton, an electronic musician who's also a member of AQ faves Jacula!! An interesting start from one of the sludgiest, crustiest bands around. Doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom. Ahh. That's better. The second track returns us to that dank dark sloooooooooow place Moss call home. Twenty three minutes of downtuned crush, the tempo only slightly faster than the growth of actual moss. But even all gnarled and sludge-y, something has definitely changed. It's not nearly as filthy, and harsh, it's actually weirdly pretty. Almost like it's some more melodic metal record being spun manually with one finger at 3 or 4 rpm. The distortion is still dense, the long drawn out chords seeming to crumble, the drums spaced way out, but somehow still more buys than you're average ultradoom drummer, the vocals are still harsh and howling, but somehow, they too seem to be a bit more smooth, further down in the mix, like another layer of sound, the howls allowed to unfurl into another layer of buzz. It's strange, but we definitely dig. And we're not saying this is NOTHING like old Moss, or folks into Bunkur and Esoteric and the like won't love it, you will, the differences are subtle, and the sound is just a little bit, well, prettier, if you can imagine something bleak and black and harsh and hateful being pretty. Which we can!
The next track, a nine minute dirge, is a bit more raw and rough, most of that prettiness we were blathering on about above is GONE. Shrieking feedback, the drums even slower and more spare, the guitars even more distorted and the vocals throat shreddingly harsh, the tempo slightly accelerated, bordering on Eyehategod territory.
But it's all bout the closer, "Gate III: Devils From The Outer Dark". Clocking in at 35 minutes + and beginning with a churning sea of downtuned rumble and buzz, before the drums finally kick in, and f course by kick in we mean pound sporadically. This track is WAY more than a dirge. It makes the track before it sound like thrash metal. This is slooooooow and so so so so dooooooooooooooooooomy. The guitars thick and corrosive, the chords allowed to ring way out and fade away before the next one drops in to take its place, but weirdly enough, this one too sounds sort of pretty, not like the opening track, but still very dreamlike and mesmerizing. Long streaks of feedback spread out over wide open expanses of minimal thud and warm warped slow motion buzz, when the vocals drop out, it becomes something entirely different, finishing off with several minutes of thick low end drone, the guitars rumbling and wrapped into a thick nearly static pulse, something truly hypnotic and almost spacey, but without sacrificing a single one of those extra 'o's.
Definitely a progression, a band can only pound and plod for so long, but so subtle that the casual listener might not even notice. "Oh yeah, heavy, slow, dooooooom", but as with most music, deep listening reveals a whole lot more going on beneath the surface, and once your ears lock on to that stuff, even the sounds on the surface begin to sound different.
WAY RECOMMENDED for the doom-ed amongst you. And just cuz we knew you were waiting for it, Sub Templum could very well be doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom disc of the year!!
MPEG Stream: "Subterraen"
MPEG Stream: "Dragged To The Roots"

ZOMES s/t (Holy Mountain) lp 14.98
The magic of the band Lungfish, was that they didn't approach their songs like songs. More like loops or pieces. Each of their 'songs' was a single riff, locked into trancelike repetition, rife with subtle tonal variation, but ultimately, almost static and incredibly mesmerizing. The band somehow propulsive while managing to not move forward, but instead looping in on themselves. Even Lungfish offshoot duo the Pupils displayed the same affinity for repetition, almost like a stripped down acoustic Lungfish, letting the vocals of frontman Daniel Higgs carry the melody, while the guitar and rhythm formed the mesmerizingly repetitive support.
So when Higgs took off on his own, his music was appropriately cyclical and looped and trancelike, so it seemed the root of Lungfish's sound was in fact to be found in the personal soundworld of Higgs. Or so we thought until now.
Zomes is the solo project of Lungfish / Pupils guitarist Asa Osborne, and the sound nears a remarkable resemblance to the solo work of his ex-partner Higgs. Short tracks, each centered around a single melodic figure, the sound allowed to shift subtly, but ultimately locked into a mesmerizing loop. Whether it's heavily effected guitar, simple muted tribal drumming, chiming guitar harmonics, whether the sound is dense and fuzzed out, or spare and spacious, Osborne conjures up a gorgeous world of trancelike sound. Maybe we were premature in declaring Higgs the music shaman of Lungfish. Perhaps the power of Lungfish stemmed from the shamanistic energy of two like minded musical seers. Zomes seems to make that abundantly clear. However, where much of Higgs' solo work is steeped in crumbling distortion, glowing with a burning intensity, Osborne's sounds seem to do just the opposite, to lope lazily, to drift dreamily. Just as powerful, sometimes almost as intense, almost Lungfish like once in a while, certainly just as mesmeric, but instead of threatening to crumble or explode, they are content to just spread and sprawl, sun dappled and dreamlike, the sound lush in its lo-fi hiss and buzz, the actual instrumentation simple, often a single guitar, and a single drum, sometimes even less, but it's the melodies, it's the timbre and the quality of the recording, the immediacy, the subdued power lurking within these slow soft spirituals, the reveals Osborne to be the musical shaman his past outfits have only hinted at. So gorgeous and sublime, mysterious and so so powerful. Zomes has been s