Last Prance w/ Mary Plain:

Here's the last round of blog-run record reviews, as promised. Should be pretty self-explanatory. If anybody wants to send promos please be my guest, it is appreciated and they will be reviewed and published eventually, just not in this space. Trying to get the last issue of PtMiiC off the presses realistically sometime around late Spring/early Summer. That seems far away now but this one will be a bit more involved than our typical amateurish layout. Bigger format which will in turn provide more room for content, contributions from other humans, probably some extra artwork and other "surprises." Than we'll close up shop and focus on other endeavors, which we've more or less been doing all year anyway. In the meantime...

David Arvedon The Best of... (Mighty Mouth)
This is a really weird record, and not in a particular good or listenable way. AA compares it to the Shaggs, but I disagree. Yes it is primitive, and yes it is fumbling, and yes the lyrics are stupid and bizarre, but Arvedon seems way more self-aware than his female New England counterparts. I think he was just a perv with a weird sense of humor. Before making this record Arvedon played in the relatively well-known 60's Punk unit the Psychopaths, who's "Till the Stroke of Dawn" 45 is also available via MM, and he is in on his own, what I guess you'd call, "jokes". So this is not a Real People record, but I think anyone who considers Konrad's Evil a landmark achievement in a field not yet understood by humans will find some things to like here. They include: the horn-laden scorch of "Eliot Ness" (the prohibition agent you "just don't fuckin' mess-with") and the low rent Dan Penn musings of "There is No Woman for this Broken Man." Budget Funk track "Yer Garbage Man" is pretty hot too. The do not include: that this shit gets pretty grating after a couple songs. The fact that all the lyrics seemed to be written within the time it took to drive to the studio ("Streaking on the East Coast/Streaking on the West Coast/ My pretty little streaker, she will streak the most"; "The choice is written on the wall/Basketball or you to call"; "Whether your normal or a faggot/All you gotta do is bag it") may be seen as appealing depending on how much time the listener spends playing with his/her own spit. In a time bloated with worthwhile reissues I can think of many other places I'd rather spend my money, but this is certainly not without its merits, slight though they may be.

Bits of Shit Cut Sleeves (Homeless)
Bits 'o Shit: Love the band name, hate the corny obsession with sleeveless jean jackets, and as for the music I'm splitting it somewhere down the middle. That'd be my Byron Coley-sized take on this record, but as I could never say so much in as little words, I'll extrapolate a bit. There's definitely some things to like in here, as the vocalist has a seriously shrill style of verbal vomit, bass tone is perfectly thick and the whole band work through these clunky songs with all the natural bravado of a roving gang of buffoons, or more fittingly "Kids of the Black Hole." Also occasionally hearing guitar torture similar to that of Venom P. Stinger (specifically on "Traps") and Frank Discussion replacing Johnny Moped as front man of his own band-certainly welcome things. I dunno though, for some reason during a lot of the album's playing time I just can't shake the feeling that, regardless of whether they would want to be or not, these guys could be featured on a Tony Hawk video game soundtrack, rather than rolling around in the trash-strewn basements where they belong. When it comes down to it, if you're gonna make frill-less, blistering Punk Rock these days you better be pretty damn good at it, and while BoS certainly don't do it shit-illy (couldn't resist), they also don't give me any reason to prevent more wear to the grooves of my Manipulerade Mongon boot when the mood for such a sound strikes.

The Bonniwells "Yesterdaisy" (Anti Fade)
Based on the horrible band name and song-titles, Discount-esque artwork and recycled gray vinyl I thought for sure this would be the worst record out of the Anti Fade bunch I got. It's like they were shooting straight for the dollar-bin with the looks of this thing! But then I threw it on and what'dya know? It 'aint that bad. First track has a shambling quality, particularly in the guitar solo, that almost reminds me of the top-tier Punk-inflicted Irish Power Pop of the Undertones/Protex and even fine Welch export the Tunnelrunners. I'm being VERY generous with that assessment though, and when the vocals come in it really kills the mood, setting it up for your typical post-00's Blog Rock zzzfest. I was tempted to knock following "Dum Dum Surf" for being a (fittingly I guess) watered down take on Cramps/Gibson Bros., but I actually kinda like it as I'm typing this shit. We got's a bit of a grower on our hands I 'pose. And when you think about it second rate Cramps isn't such a bad place to be. They really lose me on the B-side though, starting with the tired sounding group vocals of "Farmyard Song" that are unmistakably "of the now." Dig the xylophone playing though. Nice touch, whoever. Closing track blows the worst, total "cool guy" lowest common denominator garbage (I'm sorry, "garage") with the same damn drum beat every band from Brooklyn/Austin/SF has used in every song for like the last 7 years. There's just no ambition in this shit. Music for people who wear sunglasses when they are not needed and regularly have sex with women-LAME! Going on what I've been exposed to I can safely say the "Anti Fade aesthetic" is not for me.

John Cage Cheap Imitation (Mupymup)
I really love Cage's solo piano work, Sonatas and Interludes... of course being high up on the list of C-Dawg favorites. Much later down the road we have this disc, his last Piano piece written due to arthritis, and a classic of "bearded period Cage". It's got a sort of complex back story that you don't care about but I'll sum up with probably some incorrect details anyway: In 1947 frequent Cage collaborator, dancer Merce Cunningham, choreographed a performance set to the first movement of Erik Satie's Socrate, for which Cage provided piano. In '68 he decided to expand the performance to include the two other movements from Socrate and Cage was once again called in, with help from Art Maddox. Performance was set for '70, but before that happens Cage gets word that Satie's copyright handler, Editions Max Eschig, is puttin' a big cock-block on the whole thing. What jerks! To circumvent that problem Cage consults his ole buddy, the mystikal I-Ching, to mix up the pitches but keep the rhythm and structure of the piece the same, so to not interfere with Cunningham's choreography. Bam! Egg to tha face o' Editions Max Eschig! S'what you get fur messin' wit da kid. Cage liked the piece so much that he recorded himself playing it in '76, which he didn't do often, and it came out on Italy's Cramps label the following year. This is a reissue of that recording, and as usual Mupymup's pressing sounds and looks fantastic. Now all we need is a nice repo of the S/T from '74 to set things right. Get on it Mup Mup!

Call Back the Giants "Incidents of Travel" (White Denim)
Huh, was just wandering what Call Back the Giants was up to and here a label in my own backyard goes ahead and releases a new 12" E.P. On "Incidents of Travel" Tim Goss returns sans step daughter to spin yarn over his trademarked broken-electronic stumble. This one's got more vocals than we're used to from CBtG, relaying a kind of dark short fiction work 'bout being lost in the jungle, separated from yr. party. I dunno if this is an attempt to invoke some of what made Lambkin's first solo outing so arresting ("Jungle Blending" get it?), but it's a good place to be. Stuck in the Amazon with Goss as your tour guide, that is. So yeah, at times this verges on straight spoken word, stylistically a step back to that early 'Giants track "Ms. Maris Lopez", though I wouldn't necessarily call it a step in the wrong direction, mind you. While Goss weaves his tale lonely synths belch in a nervous panic, alternating between a fight to keep head above water and a calm resignation of death. Musically, it's got a 'lil Cupol here, a dash 'uh Gunter Shickert there-but every bit's fed through Goss's unmistakably cold electronic grinder. How's he get that damn thing to fire up with temperatures below freezing like this (and in tropical locales no less)? A very welcome release. It may not possess any sultry danse fleur yams a la Dawn Gibby, but I'll take a stroll through the rain forest w/ my favorite keyboard governor over such childish non-sense anytime.

Cheater Slicks Reality is a Grape (Columbus Discount)
That the Cheater Slicks will forever be known as the most innovative band to emerge from the paint-by-numbers 90's Garage Punk scene will always be a mixed blessing. While they have outlasted all their contemporaries who got more accolades than them at the time (or so I hear, I wasn't around, ya know?) and incorporated far more interesting strains of nearly all good straight Rock, it is also kinda like bragging how your toddler was the first to learn how to tie his shoes in Kindergarten. Perhaps its better to think of them as simply (and possibly the last great?) a Rock band who accepted and celebrated its own limitations, while continually throwing rocks at the glass house it called home. Here they return to the formula of their previous two studio albums (excluding '09's Bats in the Dead Trees, which is more or less live improv., and not particularly good either), a combination of revved-up Hatch-penned uppers 'n' downers, with Tom Shannon's song writing approximating a stroll through a patch of dead flowers, melancholic but beautiful at times. Yer Last Record and Walk into the Sea were definite highlights in their catalog, and really felt like a continuation on a very slowly-progressing theme. With this I have to say it feels like the almighty Slicks are treading water a bit, but goddamn if the songs aren't there! Stylistically the opening title cut may not be all that different from the lead off of WitS's "My Position on Nothingness", but the ridiculously echoed vocals that sound like they got left on the cutting room floor of Ventures in Space place it in a distinct position among the Slicks well-worn cannon. Plus, I'm pretty sure the song's about trippin' which will never not be good fodder for music. Yeah, there's some lack luster shit, but the high's are high. "Jesus Christ" brings to mind VU in the closet-and not just 'cos of similar song titles-and "Hold Onto Your Soul" is among the most memorable songs these cynical old bastards ever waxed. Perhaps not the most exciting record I've heard all year, but undoubtedly one of the solidest.

Kevin Drumm Relief (Editions Mego)
It's been 10 years since Kevin Drumm released what many still consider to be his finest moment, the landmark in speaker-testing that is Sheer Hellish Miasma. Aside from bearing quite possibly my favorite album title of the decade, I wouldn't hesitate to call it the best Noise album of the 00's. Drumm has of course kept plenty busy in the meantime, exploring everything from carefully assembled Electro-Acoustic study to group Improvisation to glacial Minimalism. He returns as a solo artist to the Mego Empire in fine form, loud and complex as ever. As I'm sure any dork who reviews this record has or will point out, although it may be titled "relief", from the very moment needle hits groove the listener really doesn't get any. OR DO THEY?! Sure, Drumm's trademark dense wall of feeback is front and center right from the get go, and it's anything but relenting (truly the Phil Spector of the experimental underground), but as Drumm wall rides a riff quickly emerges in the distance; a sort of late night, melancholic blues phrase that lingers spectral-ly in the background. At times this riff gets smothered by the overwhelming weight of the sound mass existing over top of it, and for brief periods it mangages to poke out like a sore thumb in the moon light. I imagine this is the respite the title is referencing, offering the same kind of song-under-pure-cacaphony the likes of Air Conditioning have given us before, without any lessening in cathartic intensity. It is as single minded and enveloping as any of Drumm's considerable work to date and I could listen to it all day, but he gives us about 35 min. before pulling the plug. Interestingly, a brief coda is placed at the very end of the album with a shimmering display of minimal fretboard pyrotechnics. Is this another form of "relief" Drumm is providing? Who fuckin' cares? The record is up there with the best of his immense catalog, and if that means anything to you than I think you know to act accordingly.

Esplendor Geometrico "1980-1981: Prehistoric Sounds" (Geometrik/Munster)
Over the last year or so Esplendor Geometrico have been quietly repressing a lot of their prime 80's material on vanity label Geometrik, which is helpful to saps like me 'cos that shit sure is a pain in the ass to find in the wyld. Now they have compiled a couple early singles and slapped together a very attractive and affordable 7" box-set for the discerning Industrial-Dance consumer. I fuckin' love EG. They really predicted "modern noise dude"'s fascination with dark Techno, not to mention putting all of his half-baked projects to shame in the process. I hate to keep complaining about this shit, but I just can't understand the mindset of anyone who takes Vatican Shadow seriously after hearing Kosmos Kino, and everything Robert Francisco puts out should contain an essay thanking the band. I think it's fair to consider them a Spanish Sleep Chamber w/ a fetish for architecture rather than bondage, as well. Anyway, this comp. serves as a pretty nice intro to the band, providing a choice smattering of early material at accessible lengths. Things start off pretty hott with "Moscu Esta Helado", a serious "danse floor bangar" if I've ever heard one, and one of the group's "signature trax". Other cuts on the first two E.P.'s are mostly in the hypnotic Acid-House meets raging Post-Punk style of Mekano Turbo's A-Side, and are fucking great. Three of the four tracks on the last E.P. are unreleased and lean heavy on the more menacing, vocal-less groove-locked loops of releases from much later in the decade, apparently just discovered among old reel-to-reels. CD that accompanies it tacks on some more material in that realm, also featured on the 1980-81 CS-only release from '86. 7" box-sets may be a pretty stupid format, but it does kinda make sense, particularly given the flow of the first two ones in this set, as they'd certainly be great for playing out in the right setting, if so inclined.

Home Blitz "Frozen Tracks" (Mexican Summer)
Everyone knows that Home Blitz has been at the top of the heap for all things vaguely Garage Rock-related many years strong now. What's that-don't agree with me? I'm sorry sir, but you are wrong. Come again-the competition 'aint exactly stiff pickings? Well I can't argue that, but no bother, Dan DiMaggio could hold his own in any era, and it's not a contest anyway. This new 12" E.P.'s got everything we've come to expect from him, and a few surprises as well. The guitar heroics straight out of #1 Record all the way through the College Rock of the mid-80's it influenced is certainly present. Speaking of which, you'll likely never meet a bigger Scott Miller fan outside of his grandmother than DiMaggio, and here he covers one of Miller's songs, "Rolling with the Moody Girls" off of the final Game Theory studio album. That one features great back-up vocals provided by Theresa Smith, which brings up another thing you won't find on any prior records bearing the Home Blitz moniker, a full backing band. Living in the Mid-Atlantic, I've been fortunate enough to see Home Blitz with a couple different line ups, and this one's been with him pretty long, so its only natural they get a chance to present their wrecking crew dynamics on wax. They do it in a variety of settings, whether it be energetic Punk rips ("In Every Window"), organ-driven nocturnal ballads with what sounds like a carrot being grated in the background ("Blind Nova"), or down right anthems (the other three songs I haven't mentioned yet). 'Nother fine addition to the HB catalog, no shock there.

[what a terrible person]

Karuna Khyal Alomoni 1985 (Phoenix)
Earlier in the year (or maybe it was last year, I can't keep track of this shit) Phoenix gave the boot to outsider want list staple Brast Burn Debon, and now they finish up the party with the companion album, Karuna Khyal's sole artifact, Alomoni 1985. In a time where everyone knows everything about every record ever made, ever, these two mid 70's releases on Japanese Voice Records remain complete mysteries. They have been blogged quite a bit, and everyone always says the same thing: 1.) presumably they are by the same person, though no one seems to know who; 2.) proceedings are more Germanic than Far East, with Can, Guru Guru and Faust being handy sign posts (but don't forget Magical Power Mako); 3.) Debon is the better album; 4.) I can't remember the last time I showered. Well I'd like to contest Article III at the very least, 'cos after many Swisher Sweets-soaked nights spent wafting in the grooves of both, I think I'd take KK by a hair. Brast Burn is fine and all, but calling it unfocused is like calling reformed Skrewdriver "political." On Alomoni '85 things just come together a little tighter, and repeat plays reveal a seemingly endless treasure trove of musical secrets. While it's far from expressing any kind of restraint, it replaces the "commune jam" tendencies of BB with the same inherently fuct, Punk b4 Punk spirit that runs through the consciousness of everything from Angus Maclaise to Suicide to Pere Ubu to Chrome. A Japanese Fille Qui Mousse seems to be a fair shake as well (and fitting, they referred to as "French Faust" so often). Two long stretches of perfection that utilize tape work, percussion-less rhythm and whacked vocals, blitzing straight through "crazee Jap-Psych tedium" to the other side of Avant-Valhalla. Side two is more or less one long outtake of "Aumgn", but it actually works! One major issue: Being the worthless crooks they are, Phoenix couldn't even print the huge poster that came with the original in here. But hey, you find a Voice copy and get back to me $300+ later, OK?

Liimanarina Keskenmenobileet (7" EP:t & CP: t 1899-1989) (Bad Vugum/Temmi Kongi/R'r'R Bullshit)
The tile of this comp of expired Finish band Liimanarina's first three singles may be misleading, I think they're having a larf on us. Hard research has led me to uncover that these records were actually recorded btw 1989-92 not the dates written next to the gibberish above. Liimanarina are a band I've been meaning to check out for awhile now, but as with many foreign bands with too many letters in their name I tend to forget about 'em til I get a forceful reminder, which the three labels above graciously provided here. And I'm glad they did, 'cos the majority of this 12" is pretty killer, pretty rickety-ass prime Post-Punk. I don't know what they's (they's being one Finnish bloke and whoever else he could 'round up for a session it appears) going on about, but supposedly some would call this Folk-Punk. Before you go and spit up your liquid lunch all over your Hitler SS and Jezus and the Gospelfuckers records though, that's meant in more of a confrontational Eastern European way ala the majority of Egor Letov fronted units, not smelly Plan-it-X life drop-outs. Weird but still plenty aggressive, with bits of keyboard, annoying fake locked-grooves and generally-terrible fidelity. Woulda been one of the Punker outings of the early Siltbreeze catalog (and supposedly Lax was one of their first U.S. fans). No one track necessarily sticks out per say, but it recalls in equal measure bits 'n' pieces of Icky Boyfriends, scaled-down Homostupids and Ratas Del Vaticano, while obviously pre-dating them all by some time. Very nice to have this all in one place.

Modra The Line for the Men's Room (Savage Quality)
It may be quite a rare occurrence, particularly with new releases (new music sucks/age of the re-ish/bitch/moan, etc.), but sometimes a record just sounds RIGHT. This here Modra debut is one of those fortuitous examples. Like many a fine album, things start off somewhat wound and unravel as they proceed, the more gone they get the better. The singer kinda sounds like a narcoleptic Dave E. and the whole band sputters along in a similar downward fashion to the looser 'Eels moments ("Natural Situation", "As if I Cared" and what have you), or those looong Fushitsusha warm ups, though they end up even further away from "song" than Haino & co. usually do, and without all the stoopid mysticism to boot! Roy Montgomery/X-Pressway/good NZ underground seems to be all over this as well, and the drummer's got those wonderfully "Yeats-ian" anti-rythms down pat. But again, these are just parts that make up a whole very much alive in its own fractured universe, one where stray notes pile up quicker than butts in the ashtray from those who've left the room mid-set for a smoke break. A few years ago this crew woulda went over pretty well in one sadly defunct East Allentown, PA venue that saw its fair share of broken limbs and substance abuse, for those to which that means anything. Man, with these guys, Degreaser, and the dude from Mountain Cult up to something new, current Rock in NYC doesn't seem like such an ostensibly dull proposition for the first time in awhile.

Monoshock Walk to the Fire (SS)
Now here is a reissue that really serves a purpose. While the sounds themselves were quite devastating, the sound quality of Walk to the Fire left something to be desired upon its 1996 release date (I know the CD did at least, never heard it on vinyl). Over the years it has become hard enough to find for a fair price that a reissue was warranted, and to top it off remastering could take care of the lackluster audio. Thus, you actually have an improvement made to one of the best records of the '90s. Gee, thanks SSR! I'm no audiophile-obsessed weirdo, but you can really hear it on this, not a single bass drum punch or rooster call left muffled. I can't speak to the album's impact when it originally came out, but I know this has been a fave ever since I heard it a few years back, and the reason is simple: Monoshock did something very few bands of their ilk were able to accomplish, successfully tapping into the holy Hawkwind/Fun House/repeat-riff vain without making boring, derivative dreck. Psych-Punk is a deceptively complex micro-genre; it is easy to get a bit too nugg'd jamming w/ yr. buds in whatever shit hole basement/warehouse and think your doing something cool, but more often than not such projects end up all style/no substance/much vomit-inducing. As Grady Runyan has continued to show over countless records and bands, he knows how to do this shit right, and Walk to the Fire is the man's career high point if you ask me. Of course Rubin and Derr were no slouches either, and the unit these guys represented together is not to be fucked with, offering the perfect sense of deft precision when needed, and understanding when its time to loosen things up, strap on the sax and play it while wearing a dog mask. I can't think of a better melding of Garage, Punk and real, honest to Gard Psychedelia post '70s besides maybe High Rise. This record also works as great accompaniment for cardiovascular work-outs, so next time you hit up the elliptical make sure there's a turntable handy.

Charlemagne Palestine Two Electronic Sonorities (Alga Marghen)

Alga Marghen is a frustrating label (they often release very desirable products, though at ridiculously expensive "import" prices that may only feature 15-24 min. total music on them) and Charlemagne Palestine is a frustrating artist (he has some absolutely stunning material but also does shit like this:). Two wrongs may not make a right, but in the case of this record they do make Two Electronic Sonorities, and quite potent ones at that. Palestine comes swinging right outta the gate, offering up some pretty abrasive stuff for the time (1970). Apparently the sounds are constructed using sine tone generators, the first side being two pieces played on tape from opposite sides of the room. These tapes are (lovingly) fucked with by Palestine for added discomfort, so that each time the listener feels things are starting to drift off into delicate Minimal passages, the harshness of the tones are re-introduced at intensifying levels. If you're trying to listen while going to bed, as I was the first time I put the record on, this will no doubt annoy you to the point of turning it off, but in the right mood it really hits the spot, verging on what I get from a smoking Dockstader rubbin' adhesive tape on a balloon. Second piece focuses on more conventional oscillator frequencies coupled with minimal editing techniques, but is no less effective in transmitting an overwhelming feeling of unease. Sound-wise it consists largely of heavy tone floats, swirling masses and ringing frequencies; more or less what one would expect from the set up. But it's the detail with which Palestine combines these elements that sets it apart. When these types of early sonic explorations are focused they are quite often very rewarding; when not they are usually nothing but obnoxious and soporific. Both sides of this record are planted firmly the former, and I honestly can't think of a truer testament to the quality of the music than being able to ignore the fact that artist looks like what is pictured above. Yeesh.

Pink Reason "Ache for You" b/w "Darken Daze" (Savage Quality)
Kevin Failure, along with a list of collaborators that has to be closing in on triple digits, has been doing Pink Reason for a decade now. Fittingly enough, the 10th anniversary is marked with the resurgence of Failure's Savage Quality imprint, which pressed the first Pink Reason artifacts back when nobody outside of his home state knew of the band, much less would give them the time of day. I have a hell of a lot of respect for Kevin's approach to music. The drive to continue touring regions nobody else bothers going, never playing a song the same way twice, and doing everything 100% DIY is a very rare one these days. I've heard tons of dweebs speak scornfully of the band, probably 'cos they saw them play one show when they were too fucked up to even stand. More often than not these are the same people who champion every new hype band that is completely forgotten within 6 months. Regardless, I think this single would be a pretty good place for all the dissenters to stop in for a re-evaluation. It is def. one of their most together outings, the band (which is supplemented by members of Psychedelic Horseshit, Eat Skull and TV Ghost this time 'round) firing on all cylinders for two gritty covers of obscure WI origin. On "Ache for You" they transplant backwoods Wisconsin songwriting to a desolate So Cal graveyard. Goth but still very tough and Punk, with a killer solo that almost sounds like it was hacked from a Vlad Tepes song. "Darken Daze" is even moodier, with a little twang in its step, Failure approximating Chris D. from the vantage point of Armand Schaubroeck .While I'll always yearn for the totally hopeless, crying into a pile of crank sound of the early singles and first Siltbreeze LP, I'm honestly glad the guy's cheered up a bit, and without loosing any edge. I don't mean to sound like such a knob-slobber, but when the dust settles PR will be something that is actually memorable from the last decade and on, and this single will figure into the puzzle quite nicely.

Polanyi Ongoing Resonance (Self Released)
I went to a Pollyanna at work yesterday but didn't participate, which was kinda awkward, just sitting there with no gift to give or receive. Is "Polanyi" what they call a Pollyanna in kangaroo-land? No, after some grueling research I found out it refers to Karl Polanyi, the bull on the cover of the record, which marks the second solo release from Tasmanian Steven Wright. With a font/color scheme that looks like a fuckin' Hoover record I can honestly say I had no idea what to expect from this one, but when 'ya flip it over and there's a guy sitting at a synth in a large room filled with nothing but pedals, amps and power chords, getting the mind to wander in a Merzbow-type direction, which is more or less accurate. Steve starts it off with a bit of simple ivory ticklin' over a cloudy sound mass and for a second I thought (and hoped) he was gonna go in a kinda Steve Reich direction, but it just keeps getting noise-ier from there, approximating the unrelenting walls of say, The Rita or Sewer Election, sans any implied transgression. At the start of the B-side, with "Muhammad Bassiri" (all the songs are named after notable non-violent political activists, which is a bit too NPR/hand-holdy for me, but a funny juxtaposition to the typical "heavy" imagery historically associated with much of the genre I guess) an organ drone is once again introduced and stays around longer, though this one seems more indebted to the Terry Riley of Reed Streams than Reich. Wright's playing is pretty mechanical and simplistic, and I can't help but think that if a more skilled pianist was at the helm this could be really fantastic, but concept always trumps musicianship in my book and he's got a good one here. Things again continue to get washed out by white noise until an abrupt cut off point is reached and we finish up shop with "Shirin Ebadi", which eventually heats up to near New Blockaders levels of in-the-red intensity. An interesting approach; one foot in beauty and the other in filth. I'm fully aware that my enjoyment of this record is somewhat influenced by the fact that all the people who used to make this kind of stuff have "moved on" to producing feeble attempts at Goth-Techno that no one with any taste for Dance music would consider worthy of an equipment warm-up, but it is a refreshing listen nonetheless. 

Southern Comfort "Silver and Gold" b/w "Don't Cry No Tears" (Black Petal)
I spoke rather dismissively of Angela Bermuda's collective oeuvre while discussing Straight Arrows, one of the many other bands she plays in, and while this record doesn't necessarily make me want to recant that statement, I do find it more enjoyable than most of her other work I've heard. Here Bermuda is joined by Circle Pit live member Harriet Hudson, and together they belt out sullen, echoed takes sans bass, drums, or much of anything at all. It's actually kind of an interesting idea, as the lead on the A-side is basically their vocal harmonies, coming off sorta like 14 Iced Bears playing those VU loft demos from before Mo was in the band. Obviously the songwriting is nowhere near as good, but hey, no drums, kinda loft-folk-y, but indebted to Shoegaze and Grunge as well, eat my muff if you don't like the comparison. The B-side is indeed a Neil Young cover, and it is bit lazy and pointless. I wouldn't expect many to be capable of doing the original justice, but Southern Comfort drape the whole thing in so much echo and distortion they turn Neil's teenage laments into something that makes Flying Saucer Attack sound like pre-war Blues. It just kinda comes off like they ran out of ideas after one song, then were scrambling for something to put on the B-side and somebody was like "Hey, I was listening to Zuma last week and kinda figured out the solo to "Don't Cry No Tears", let's just use that." The project really does seem pretty slight (I mean these chix obviously know people in bands, they couldn't find someone to knock out a steady beat for a couple minutes?), but for some reason on the A-side it works, and I'd be interested hearing how much mileage they could get out of this set up. Throw an organ in there and some Dub effects and you could really have something...

Teen Anal Terrorist Warm Blatz for Teenage Runaways (Savage Quality)
Knowing the label owner's propensity for Digital Hardcore (check out the last PR 7" on Disordered) and with a band name like Teen Anal Terrorist, I was expecting some very Alec Empire-inpired moments at work here (which I would've been fine with). Things are a bit more mannered than that on this mysterious rural WI outfit's debut, but not much so. Even when the unnamed songs hover around reserved tape crackle and submerged beats, they are prodded in a way that is very aggressive and very Punk-minded. Hell, the band, who again is named "Teen Anal Terrorist" and calls their record "Warm Blatz for Teenage Runaways", go so far as to thank cough syrup on the insert, and this LP took like eight years to come out according to the Internet. How could they not be Punks? It's all very broken and chaotic; heavy Industrial-damage that often recalls John Balance toolin' for anus in a bathhouse run by the members of Drexciya. Certainly the underground is rife with these Techno-influenced takes on classic post-Industrial tropes at the moment, and people have been doing it for decades to varying degrees of success I suppose. Teen Anal Terrorist really do manage not to sound like any of them though, possessing a darkness that may theoretically put them in the same arena as M Ax Noi Mach or Haus Arafna, but thematically producing something entirely their own. Scratching an itch I never even knew I had, which is high praise for any new record I come across. Kev's got a damn fine label shaping up with releases like this.

Wicked Lady The Axeman Cometh & Psychotic Overkill (Guerssen)
Hey, you like the Dark of Round the Edges fame, right? Of course you do! Everybody loves that rarest of UK privates (and for once the price tag almost matches the quality). So here's four LPs worth of material that Dark's 2nd guitarist Martin Weaver laid down before joining that revered unit. When it comes to forgotten Heavy Psych bands they don't get much more legendary than Wicked Lady, a trio whose reputation for debauchery and violence rivaled the strength of their tunes. It's amazing that these recordings, reportedly taped to 4 track just so the band didn't forget how to play them live (which I kind of have a hard time believing judging by the decent sound quality) haven't already been issued in their entirety on vinyl before, and a serious service that Guerssen has set this straight. Regardless of the stories that have followed them (which makes them sound like the sickest band ever, and Weaver claims are mostly true in the liners), based on only musical merit these collections are quite essential for fans of obscure Psych sides. Started up in 1968 after being kicked out of a cover band, all the songs were recorded between '69-'72, and they are incredibly nihilistic for the date. Imagine a first wave Black Metal take on Sabbath and Hendrix and this is more of less what it smells like here. Up until the second set, Psychotic Overkill, which features their latest material with a different bassist, Weaver is the only one with a clue of how to operate his instrument, and it's just full on gtr. damage, going down easy as the wind hawk'd from a joint soaked in sweat, English strong ale and formaldehyde. And yet it never gets old. Proto-Venom, proto-Afflicted Man, shit-in their completely moronic and addictive single minded-ness I'd say it's fair to call 'em proto-Brainbombs. These Spanish fucks sure are charging you an arm and a leg, but give yrself a late X-Mas present. I'm sure drummer "Mad" (as in institutionalized ) Dick Smith would appreciate it.

2012

As December bleeds into January and we all prepare for the annual inebriated trek to our own personal Two Street in commemoration of a New Year and its promised disappointments and regrets, we (me) at PtMiiC feel it's important to look back on the one about to be left behind. Like yourself, I have scanned over enough self important takes compiled mid-November by some spineless, faceless bottom feeder, breathlessly extolling the virtues of culturally neutered R 'n' B-infused Pop tailor made for the stupidest kind of overeducated White person, or whatever crap he feels the need to tell people he liked to make himself feel in touch, with maybe a nod to Merchandise as the "underground" pick to play on his iPod while "on the train", that the thought of putting up "a list" of my own seems even more ridiculous than usual. And yet here I am, doing just that. 'Cos these things are kind of fun to think about in a perverse way. And for all the complaining I and everyone else do about new music, there was actually plenty of good stuff that came out this year. I've but grazed the rotund labia protecting the scabbard of Music in 2012 with my undulating member, and I'm still far from digesting that which has come my way, but here's a couple that really stuck to the ribs thus far:

LPs:
Astor Alcor (Kye)
Cheater Slicks Reality is a Grape (CDR)
FNU Ronnies Saddle Up (Load)
Jason Lescalleet Songs about Nothing (Erstwhile)
Mad Nanna I Made Blood Better (NGL)
Modra The Line for the Men's Room (Savage Quality)
Richard Papiercuts A Sudden Shift (Pena)
Michael Pisaro/Toshiya Tsunoda Crosshatches (Erstwhile)
Scott Walker Bish Bosch (4AD)
Neil Young & Crazy Horse Psychedelic Pill (Reprise)

EPs:
Acolytes "Known Nonsense" (Savoury Days)
Call Back the Giants "Incidents of Travel" (White Denim)
Folded Shirt "Tiny Boat" b/w "Mouth Clock" (Fashionable Idiots)
Hoax 2nd E.P. (YA!)-Thought the Pain Killer one was kinda disappointing TBH
Home Blitz "Frozen Tracks" (Mexican Summer)
Lloyd Pack "Know Your Lloyd Pack" (Siltbreeze)
Meat Thump "Box of Wine" b/w "Feel Good" (NGL)-RIP Brendon. This single makes Laughner solo sound like the joke it wuz.
Mordecai "Drag Down" b/w "Waste" (Wantage USA)
Pink Reason "Ache For You" b/w "Darken Daze" (Savage Quality)
Satanic Rockers "Eviction" b/w "Rat vs. Boredom" (Quemada)

Promising demos:
The Floor Above had two pretty good ones. And even though I'm very biased, seriously, Slave Master. Anyway I'm not 17 years old, I don't buy demos.

Reissues/Archival (Too many to count, plus who cares? Anyway, five that readily spring to mind):
Elaine Radigue Feedback Works (Alga Marghen)
Shadow Ring Remains Unchanged (Kye)
XWave Cities on Flame (Little Big Chief)-does this count? new track on B-side but rest was '08. My answer is Yes!
Wicked Lady "both collections" (Gueressen)
COLOURED  FUCKIN' BALLZZZ Ball Fukkkin Power (Zing Zing)

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Show in Philadelphia:

Too Many Fucking Records, They Breed Like Rats!:

More record reviews. Just what you were looking for. I know I said last time that there would only be one more of these posts, but the pile's gotten a bit heavy so we went ahead and broke things up. There will be another update of reviews shortly and then nothing on that front until they're in print for issue V. And what a doozy that issue's shaping up to be! More on that later. If you've sent anything in and don't see it here it will be in the next update. Thanks for your patience. And a bit of self-promotion, I've got a piece of fiction writing in the 2nd issue of UK-based quarterly journal The Newhaven Journeyman. There are four other loosely connected short stories that will be serialized in this journal, then I plan to release them on my own in a collection with animation provided by Philadelphia artist Michael Gerkovich, but that won't be happening anytime soon. For info. and order go here: http://www.eleusinianpress.co.uk. Hope everyone on the East Coast is making out alright. Fuck Sandy. Stay sick.

Agitation Free Malesch (Made in Germany)
Agitation Free's 1972 debut long play has long been a Kraut favorite in my living quarters and, I believe, occupies a distinct station among the highly varied and vaunted catalog of 70's German experimental Rock. With its alluring blend of (for the time) exotic musical traditions of Egypt, Greece and Cyprus with (for the time) relatively standard jammy Euro Prog via tight tape editing, often it is as if these long hairs have hypnotized the Sphinx herself into flicking the listener's bean by way of their heavy Heine grooves. There's so much going on in this record yet it never sounds crowded; each idea gets room to breath and field recordings are subtely added to the bigger picture seamlessly. It always kills me how artfully commencing "You Play For Us Today" fades into the open air market of "Sahara City", which then itself morphs into this incredible mix Van der Graaf Generator, cosmic Kosmische and something Sublime Frequencies would drool over decades later. It's just so ahead of its time. Things do threaten to become a bit stagnant on the title track, but just when boredom is about to set in the succint riffing of "Rucksturz" asserts its dominance and shop is closed up winningly. When it comes down to it, atmosphere is one of the most important components to musical enjoyment, and AF's first has got a specific feel to it that very few other records have replicated successfully. Main turkey Lutz 'Lüül' Graf-Ulbrich went on to play in Ash Ra during their New Age period after Agiation Free disbanded in the mid 70's. Made in Germany appear to be legit and also did the band's second album, which I haven't picked up yet and have never heard in any other form. My only gripe is slightly altered/uglified artwork to both (Why?). Otherwise, a total no brainer.

Derek Bailey Improvisation (Mupymup)

Been on a big Derek Bailey kick coincidentally, Solo Guitar, Aida, Topography..., and The London Concert all getting the buisness, and this 1975 solo album originally issued on legendary Italian Prog/Avant Garde label Cramps is a fine addition to the party above. I hate using this word when describing music, not only because I find it douche-y and academic, but because I also don't believe it's accurate in most cases, but with Bailey it really is fitting to call his work "challenging". And not challenging in the same way as say, Keith Rowe. Although Rowe may not treat his insturment as conventionally as Bailey does, you can usually kind of immerse yourself in his work and let it wash over you. I mean more challenging in the way of early Whitehouse. That is to say, "structurally challenging." There is not much to hold onto in both Bailey's playing and something like Birthdeath Experience; the listener is forced to either dismiss it on whatever grounds he chooses, or pay attention to the complex details and gradual changes. And I think that both artists have similar uses of space in music (bet Bennett is/was a big Webern fan too). I find it hard to reconcile why I enjoy a lot of both their work, but it's also what makes them fascinating to me. This album in particular is a nice intro to Bailey. The title tells you what he's all about fur one, and this was a good year for him, as he was just getting Musics off the ground with other champions of free-improv. I don't necessarily believe there're any Universal Truths to be found in improvisational music, but records like this certainly prove something. It also boasts some of the best sound quality of his early recordings, so one gets to hear his shrapnel-style plucking and lingering single notes, enhanced by signature double stereo pedal, in true mid-fi glory. There's a point maybe a qtr. of the way through the second side where Bailey goes on a rapid fire tangent and I'm reminded of the piano runs of Cecil Taylor or those brief, transcendent moments that seem to occur in the best Iannis Xenakis pieces where, after a bit of aimless electronic noodling, everything comes together into an incredibly powerful mass of sound. In many ways, this is what Derek Bailey did with a guitar. Improvisation has been reissued more than any Bailey title I belive, and this pressing sounds fantastic (very loud!) and features a sharp printed inner of Bailey in action, looking like your racist uncle. Winner winner chicken dinner.

Boomgates Double Natural (Bedroom Suck)
All I knew of Boomgates before hearing this record was that it was Brendan-the guy in Eddy Current who wears driving gloves and has similar mannerisms to an individual with Aspergers-'s Indie Pop project. It doesn't seem fair that someone so attractive and charming should be able to make music that is basically targeted towards bookish girls who wear cardigans and big glasses (and the creeps who lust after them). How are the rest of us supposed to compete with that?! This guy should be condemned to sing in a Murder Junkies cover band for the rest of his life, he'd still be more appealing to women than me. So right there I'm pretty biased, plus Indie Pop sucks, but whatever, I'll listen to it. And upon doing so I've more or less reinforced the notion that this stuff just isn't for me. It's not that it's too polite or accessible because trust me, I'm not just sitting around blasting How Could Hardcore be any Worse? and Gary Mundy side-projects all day, I like plenty of fay shit. It's just that these songs aren't very interesting. The opening downtempo strumming  of "Flood Plains" actually got my hopes up initially, as things sounded pretty mature and the flimsy/cutesy K Records vibe I was expecting was nowhere to be found. Puerile lyrics aside Huntley's voice sounded great too, but then the female singer comes in and totally mucks things up. This pattern is basically followed for the remaining nine songs to my displeasure. On their own, neither vocalist is bad, but they compliment each other so poorly it sounds like a fuckin' Evens record or something. Some tracks are definitely more successful, possessing a tempered Bird Dog-era Verlaines "warmth" to them (fuckin' Christ I don't know how to talk about these kinds of records), but most of the time things are far from memorable. The hooks are nonexistent and they could be any one of thousands of bands hoping to get onto the soundtrack of Michael Cera's next flick. Even if the appeal escapes me, there are surely many adult-contemporary Indie fans who have secure jobs and lead respectable, informed lives that probably dream about this kinda shit, so eh...eh...there's that I guess?

The Bowels S/T E.P. (Kye)

A sort of follow-up to the very enjoyable Vincent Over the Sink E.P. from last year, this here's the Bowels first, and I gather only, vinyl commitment. I loved how the former band's record was able to capture this really discernible sense of isolation and longing, it being a brief, mysterious document that both looks and sounds like some forgotten relic of the early industrial era (when things were still far from being codified) that would surely go for a lot of money were it released in 1982. The Bowels, which feature Mary Macdougall alongside Vincet's Matt Hopkins (notably of Naked on the Vague as well) and the departed Christopher Schueler, were able to capture similarly queasy notions of lost hope here, but in a more brittle Rock/Folk context. The record consists of four short songs and two minimal tape excursions, existing somewhere along the lines of A to Austr on a tight budget or Tall Dwarfs if they dodged melodic cohesion like it was a leper. "Fortune Song" has a wonderfully inept Macdougall vocal line that sounds like if Charely Gocher were an Australian broad, and gets the whole room cracking up in a sort of Fugs at 3 A.M. style, while a track like "Worrywart" is almost as if Heitkotter tried his hand at introspective SSW, such is the stumbling, threadbare nature of the song in all its early morning glory. Only 350 pressed and sold out at the source, but there should still be some floating around from your usual suspects awhile longer.

Cuntz Aloha (Homeless)
Hmmm where to start with this one? A band named "Cuntz" from (you guessed it!) Australia, with an album title denoting nothing in particular and cover art resembling a cross between Exit Dreams and a record that'd be on display at Urban Outfitters. Really had no idea what to expect going in, but can't say I was thrown for many loops at any point during this Melbourne band's debut. Their sound takes cues from a fairly wide array of heavy Punk, dating from both the pre-and-post Grunge era, but it's the kind of exercise in pastiche you could play for anyone familiar with generally aggressive music to probably no reaction at all. With the simple but tight drum pummeling and a controlled mess of a riff on opening (possibly label theme?) "Homeless" I figured Aloha would be a very Nirvana/Jesus Lizard-inflicted experience, but then about a third of the way through a synth is introduced, though for what purpose I really couldn't say. Lazy comparison, but it sounds like a less passable Pop. 1280. Towards the end a high point is reached in "Hoonin'", when the band dumbs things down to reflect similar musical ethos as those employed by such ancestors as the Cosmic Psychos, and if you squint during the hazy monotony of closing "Mum" (well it would be last song if they didn't throw some stupid birthday joke thing in there) I swear you can see Bobby Soxx sticking a mic up his butt. Wish they would have explored those approaches more. In essence, the problem with this album is the same one that plagues the vast majority of disposable modern (and old) music; it's not that it is bad, it's just bland. There's no style to the thing, no commitment and nothing that conveys a cohesive idea of how to make am inciting piece of art (or anti-art). All it really suggests is 3-5 people, mostly likely white, male and in their early-to-late twenties, who have a reasonably competent sense of how to play their instruments and write convincing, albeit unadventurous, songs in a manner that is on the surface similar to a style they themselves enjoy, possibly in order to escape the menial boredoms of everyday life. There is certainly nothing offensive about such a proposition, but in terms of giving this album a reason to exist or anyone a reason to listen to it, I personally couldn't find one. It really highlights the difference with successful executions of the style, such as that found in...

 

Degreaser Sweaty Hands (Negative Guest List)
...this band right here! Hey, look what I did, even worked out alphabetically! I was in no small way a fan of Degreaser's debut Bottom Feeder, but all the same it kinda got buried under the pile until I heard about this new one. So this record has not only given me reason to dig that back out again for re-evaluation (results: it still kills), but also to compare the two, as  is wont to happen when considering a unit with a currently-small discography. After a few back to back sessions I gotta say Sweaty Hands is taking the cacophony featured on the debut in all the right places. If we can extrapolate from the sounds on this thing not much has changed for the gang, but they reign things in for a tighter, bleaker, and more focused squall (and they still aren't interested in printing song titles, lyrics or any info. period anywhere on their product). The (very bad) trip down the rabbit hole persists, but its focus is shifted towards a slightly-leaner, even darker ambiance. Bass and drums bounce off each other in a frightening parody of a minimal-blues band, kinda like Raven ditchin' Ohio for Kim Salmon's "Swampland", while lead guitar slinger/vocalist Tim Evans layers sheet upon sheet of feedback 'til he's got one hell of a groggy, stumbling Heavy Liquid. Degreaser seem like a band dedicated to a consistent atmosphere, one that they may have not fully created themselves, yet exist in very naturally, and I think that is part of what makes them work (and bands such as the one reviewed above not). Everything about their presentation screams a collective exception of defeat. There's no sense of pity for themselves or anyone else, no attempts to shock or amuse (though at times they are legitimately hilarious. Stare at the cover of the previous LP for a minute 'til you figure out what it is for evidence), just a very loud and calloused blank stare at reality. Why the fuck have I still not heard Bird Blobs?

Helm Impossible Symmetry (Pan)
Helm's last two LP's were undeniably among the best unclassifiable exp. music of recent vintage (but I wouldn't claim to be keeping track all that well). Luke Younger, though his work in the duo Birds of Delay never did much for me, managed to tap into some very inviting sound worlds that harkened back to the merger of early industrial, dark ambient and sound poetry, making recognizable and memorable albums in a genre which seems to lend itself quite often to shortsightedness, ambiguity and a glut of ill-conceived concepts/releases. Impossible Symmetry is his third long playing effort on vinyl and first for shite-hawt Berlin-based Pan, and it continues in this fashion. It offers five pieces all varying in atmosphere and reference, though bursting with well-considered ideas. While last year's (very good) Cryptography mostly explored crumbling organic sound worlds, and the preceding year's (heard it after the 2nd LP, but even better) To an End combined mangled field recordings with compositional drone, this album, although recognizable as a continuation of the previous two, is both more fleshed-out and disjointed. On the first maybe 2/3's of the album synthetic, rhythmic noise prevails, but just when things start getting a bit stale, the masterful pacing of sparse "Arcane Matters" hits, dragging the listener under tow with little more than a 4/4 bell ring and blended voices. Followed by a couple uncomfortable minutes of "Stained Glass Electric" that seriously sound like fuckin' Uncommunity or something, before ending on a near-PINA excursion in "Above all and Beyond", it's clear that Younger made a conscious effort to never sit still too long on this one. What has consistently separated Helm from his peers has been a keen sense of composition, editing and history. Contemporary Noise guys frontin' like they're Avant Garde are a dime a dozen, but truth be told I couldn't pick most of their work out of a line up. Helm sounds like Helm, and that's all too rare. As is typical with the Pan catalog, thing has great mastering, classy packaging and a price-tag that reflects it, but you get what you pay for both musically and visually.

Kenneth Higney "Funky Kinky" b/w "I Wanna be King" (One Kind Favor)
Much to the man's embarrassment, many are familiar with Higney's fabled Attic Demonstrations, which was also reissued a year or so ago by One Kind Favor. This 1980 single that was actually intended for commercial release flys a bit more under-the-radar (at least I had no clue it existed), and if the demos were meant to give the listener a taste of Kenny, than his official songs are the Christmas ham. And what a delicious, weird ham it is! "Funky Kinky" is Higney's come on to the ladiez, and as its title might suggest, a rather raunchy one at that. Clean guitars noodle, head-stockless bass throbs and a synth squeals with no real attention to timing while Higney lays it down HARD, not asking the gurls what to do but telling 'em (don't take that the wrong way though, when it's Kenny behind the wheel everything is consensual). I think he may be going for an early Prince vibe but ends up in his own warped boogie/porn-Psych universe, and is all the better for it. "I Wanna be the King" is Higney's ode to the Bowery scene of late 70's NYC, and it's merger of Real People with Fake Punk might even be more bizarre than the A-side. Describing the music is useless, as it once again surpasses whatever humble mark originally aimed for, but it is important to understand what Higney wants to be (the king, a star, a Dead Boy, a Heartbreaker, drunk on whiskey at a dirty Downtown bar), as well as the societal conventions he asperses (among them: marriage, Chevrolets, the sissy music of John "Den-var"), to grasp his one of a kind worldview. Sometimes people get up-in-arms about these kind of records, how they're musically unlistenable and simply a case of audience-laughing-at-artist. I certainly agree it's queer to be all "OMFG this record is so funny what kinda freak could make this shit!" 'cos the fact that something's "out there" doesn't make it good. But with Higney that is not the case. His music is not only charming, but also intentionally/unintentionally hilarious, border-line genius and just a good time all around. Real talk-if you can't get down with this you may be a self-serious dweeb.

Null and Void Possibilties(Discoverable Thoughts) (Bunker Pop)

Quite a story on this 'un, which I believe follows more or less as thus: A few years ago venerable peddler of atypical musical rarities in mp3 form, Mutant Sounds, posts the two E.P.s released by obscure Southern Californian Synth/Post-Punk act Null and Void in their day. They were summarily contacted by members of the band as well as those who knew them, and were informed of an unreleased LP that had been turned down in '83 by all who were approached with it, then given permission to upload it. Three years on (and near 30 since its recording) and Bunker Pop gives it a proper home on wax with this fantastic package, including extensively detailed liners on the back of a gigantic poster. As for the album's sound, it is a rather desirable blend of early 80s cassette underground moves, incredibly strange Operatic vocals by mastermind of the project William Shifflette, Chrome-plated dystopian future visions and short, bright bursts of Art School Pop. Quite a bit to wrap one's head around, really. I remember DL'ing this when first posted, loving it, then kind of forgetting about it, only to re-discover and be floored when randomly flipping through the iPod and scratching my head as to who the hell Null and Void were. If there's anything resembling a "hit" on here, "The Philosophy Song" is it, gradually luring the listener in with lush Synth ambiance and supressed instrumental before exploding into three mintues of twisted Pop perfection, in a similar vein to so many great Gilbert/Lewis one-offs. That this could be followed with the exploratory dynamics of "Aubrey Beardsley!", a cut that sounds like NON made by respectable individuals, showcases the true breadth of Shifflette and co.'s craft. In turn, they don't always hit the mark (the bouncy Wave/Circus Music "Our New Life" is a truly abismal product of its time), but you gotta give it to 'em for not holding back. Bunker Pop bats 2:2 (they were also responsible for that great Coitus Int. reissue awhile back), proving that although rare in occurance, life occassionally does produce happy endings outside of wish-washy environs'.

Bernard Parmegiani L'Oeil Ecoute/Dedans-Dehors (Recollections GRM)

Here's a release from the second batch of INA/GRM reissues on this subisdiary/series of the Mego empire, the first of which consisted of an uncharacteristic synth piece by Pierre Shaeffer and a great record by Guy Reibel, neither of which I'm gonna bother proprely reviewing 'cos they came out a while ago and who the fuck cares what I think of Musique Concrete reissues anyway? I'm also not gonna review the other record released in conjuction with this one (a comp. of material recorded in the INA/GRM studio btw 1960-70 called Traces One),  'cos I didn't buy the damn thing these 'lil shits are madd expensive and I'm not a rich shithead like you, you rotten trust-fund fuck. I bet it's good too, but it seemed less essential by description. Hey so this rec. by good ole' veal Parmegiani, let's discuss OK? It's two pieces, first from '70 and second from '77, each released in some form (though never side by side) on INA/GRM, which was the label associated with Groupe de Recherche Musicales, a sort of Justice League-esque organization of Avant Frog composers who studied acousmatic music under Shaeffer, and of which the composer in question was a notable 2nd generation member. First up is, what in the King's English would read "The Eye is Listening", and from Parm's notes the theoretical basis of it lie in trying to transfer the act of seeing into hearing and vice versa. It starts off with the same sound source Shaeffer infamously used many years earlier, train tracks, before focusing mostly on heavily processed and obscured electronic tinkering. It has certainly got its moments but slightly meandering at times. The real meat (or again, veal) of this record comes on side two, or "Inside Outside", which is actually quite telling of a title, as it juxtaposes beautifully recorded electronics with non-musical sources to create an environment where the two become inextricably linked. This is done through meticulous editing and an instinctive knack for the perfect blend. Very listenable and musical, escaping the "Hey, look at this 15 ft. tall synth I set up to reverberate into the carcass of a giant Sperm Whale! Now listen to me twist knobs on it with no real rhyme or reason for 20+ min." trap this type of muisc can sometimes fall into. On deck's a twofer from Luc Ferrari and some bull named Ivo Malec. If the quality remains this high than keep 'em coming please!

Eliane Radigue Feedback Works 1969-1970 (Alga Marghen)
The old line about Radigue is that she came up studying technique under the guidance of Pierre Shaeffer and assisted Pierre Henry in the 60s, then eventually started incorporating the influence of American Minimalists like La Monte and Steve Reich into her work, which disconcerted her Concrete buddies a bit, but they eventually accepted it as that of their own. Hey, I wasn't there, what do I know? In fact, Adnos I-III and Jouet Electronique/Elemental I are quite recent favorites over in my neighborhood, but that only makes this sprawling 2xLP set on Italy's fine (and pricey) Alga Marghen label all the more welcome. Side 1 starts off with two shorter cutz, "Stress-Osaka" (low frequency tones fighting for domination over popping electronic circuit bend) and "Usral" (almost vocal chant-sounding acoustic phenomena, with electronic surges and tone-interplay throughout). A fantastic warm up, showcasing Radigue's adept control of these sounds even when not stretching things to mammoth, patience-testing lengths, as well as the diversity she was able to achieve with such a minimal set up. Side two is the masterful "Omnht" which is maybe the most compositional and traditionally musical of the works, and the most powerful. Basically a distant sort of siren is repeatedly sounded while organic pulsing, or "purring" as Radigue herself calls it, unravels underneath. Although the means to achieve them were different it is reminiscent of the great Folk Rabe piece from '68 and later Organum recordings. No bullshit, it gets so rhythmic towards the end it starts to approach proto-minimal Techno! The second LP is dominated by two different mixes of "Vice-Versa, Etc...", sounding like early prototypes for the Buddhist-inspired long form drones that were to come after Radigue's return to music in the early 80's, though they lack the dynamics that made both her later recordings, as well as those featured on the first LP, really entrancing. Comes with a lengthly booklet featuring plenty of info. about the recording process, an interview from 2011, and some archival photos of her looking hott as fuckk. Expensive for sure, but totally worth it if you're looking for sparse Electo-Acoustic study that'll make you pay attention to life, rather than put you to sleep.

Satanic Rockers "Eviction" b/w "Rat versus Boredom" (Quemada)

Brooklyn-based Quemada have been a fervent importer of Australian goods since a while now, giving some of the continent's less assuming bands a proper shake stateside, and they struck gold with this, the debut vinyl appearance of Melbourne's Satanic Rockers. A-side stomper "Eviction" is the kind of left field ode to bad taste one flips endlessly, possessing at times both a gonzo ineptitude and stunted genius that brings to mind what a mating session 'twixt members of the Prats and Flipper might sound (and look) like. Yikes, I think that might be illegal in most countries! With lines like "This is my home/Satan's pleasure dome" and a closing solo that would make David Welsch proud, it's just the kind of stupidity my ears constantly pine for, and reason enough to keep purchasing contemporary Punk singles when very few are up to snuff. After producing such a song they could have etched a personal diatribe on the B-side about how bad my coffee-breath is in the morning and I'd still go to bat for them, but no, they pressed the wonderfully-titled "Rat versus Boredom" on there instead.  According to the notes it's from a different session, or "bedroom rehearsal made late in 2011 with zero overdubs", and well, it sounds so. It's apparent that these Rockers know how to put together a single well, as this cut lets the A-side shine like the malformed beauty it is, offering a somewhat mannered comedown that, in the process, is still one of the better songs I've heard all year. Being prone to musical speculation as I am (and having the 540 re-ish within eye sight), I'll go out on a limb and say that if the members of the Young Identities started weening themselves on Mark Perry's goo 'stead of Cave/Curtis's after they broke up, the Kicks woulda sounded something similar to this side. If these two are any indication of the forthcoming album on Albert's Basement I'll stick a banana in my neighbors tail-pipe.

Shadow Ring Remains Unchanged (Kye)
It goes without saying that two LPs worth of unreleased Shadow Ring recordings spanning the group's entire existence and mastered by Jason Lescalleet is about as exciting a proposition as anything, music-related or otherwise, for the manager of this here blog space, and gets the highest recommendation around. I imagine anyone reading my prattle is quite familiar with the musical going-ons of Darren Harris, Graham Lambkin, and Tim Goss circa 1993-2003, but what makes this set so great is that one gets an alternate history of the band, essentially being subjected to their brilliant trajectory all over again. It is often noted that the Shadow Ring had one of the all time great musical developments. Far from existing in a vacuum, there were always references to be cited, and the band has been nothing if not forthcoming of acknowledging them in the years since their end. What seperates Shadow Ring from the pack, however, and indeed relegates them to an all time favorite for me, is the way they swallowed influences up and made them conform to their own world. Nascent Godz reverence from the A-side's City Lights sessions never exactly gets tossed as the band goes on, however, it is thrown into the pot alongside the likes of progressive Psych-Folk Jan Dukes de Gray, a decidedly British take on Robert Ashley's American theatrical works during the start of their Swill Radio run and a nod to Ashley's bud Alvin Lucier with the sound dismantling of side 4, dedicated entirely to outtakes from the band's final (and if pressed to choose, I'd say best) album I'm Some Songs. They also proved, more so than any band in history (yes, really), that knowing how to play one's instruments properly is not important as long as the vision is sound. Right from the beginning they were acutely aware of what they wanted to do, and no lack of musicianship stopped them from accomplishing it. The best feature of Remains Unchanged, however, is that one needs none of such context to appreciate it. It functions as a completely coherent overview, right from the opening tidbit of John Peel (r.i.p.) proclaiming his bewildered fixation towards the band's debut, to when they literally commit group suicide on tape during the second disc's closing, pulling their collective insides out for anyone who cares to hear.

Sprot "Summer of Sprot" (Wormwood Grasshopper)
Mysterious records showing up on my door step are always a welcome occurrence. When I saw a return address from Tasmania that looked familiar on this and "WG 004" on the label I had high hopes, seeing as Wormwood Grasshopper haven't had an egg yet out of their previous three. My hopes got REAL high when I threw what I thought to be the A-side down and shards of sound that got me thinking "Doden if they stole M.B.'s loops" started coming out of the speakers, as that is more or less what I wish every record I ever owned sounded like. Then I looked at the tiny insert that came with the thing and relaized I 'twas playing the B-side, which is supposed to be at 33 rpm. Also learned from it that the players on here were familiar ones, Matt Earle (of a million other worthwhile combos) and Adam Park, who plays in some of those other worthwhile combos with him. So not much of a mystery why this is good anymore. Played at the correct speed, the B-side is a little less jarring, but it still holds up well, and I think the M.B. comparison remains valid (specifcally his earlier, harsher stuff). A-side's got one foot in Rock and one in Noise (but is not "Noise Rock"), cooking up a nice raga feel w/ bass and drums under what I believe is guitar-created feedback. Sorta brings to mind what a Kennelmus on Come Org. might sound like, or if Electronic Hole really did record in, well, an electronic hole of sorts. 'Nother winner from this crew which have yet to let me down, and further goes to illuminate the difference between interesting musicians connected to a wide variety of Australian groups and ones like...

Straight Arrows "First 2 7"s" (Anti Fade)
...those featured in this band. Look! I did it again! Crazy how things just line up like this. I'm not trying to be hard on these guys or talk shit, but I just never found the likes of Circle Pit, Ruined Fortune, somebody from Royal Headache maybe? (or some other R.I.P. Society-associated act) to be very interesting, or even worthy of exploration. Much as those bands have elicited not much more than indifference though I'd rather give them a crack than these here Straight Arrows. They sure is "straight" 'far as sound is concerned, maybe even "square", but isn't all modern Garage? This record, which is a comp. of an OOP debut 7" and subsequent split 7", hits just about all the signposts of the genre. It's got crummy recording, short, sorta energetic songs and not a whole lot that tells me any thought went into crafting a distinct product (to be fair though, not much is going into this review either). You could say it's a facile comparison, but does the world really need another early-Black Lips cover band? Essentially that is what Straight Arrows, at least on their first two 7"s, are, and I honestly can't understand why anyone would want to mimic song conventions that are nearly 50 years old without adding even the slightest idiosyncrasy to them. The tracks from the split do fare a hell of a lot better than the debut though, and if I had to hear "Jeepster" (which is not a T.Rex cover) a couple more times I wouldn't mind it. Killer guitar tone on that one, really. But then its follow up "Close that Door" (which is not a Tigermen cover) is just so utterly predictable it immediately kills any momentum they had going. Maybe they got better after these early records, but the contents of this give me no reason to find out. At the end of the day shit like this isn't my bag. Sometimes it gets by on the strength of the songs, but that is rare (Apache Dropout did it for about one record then lost it), and this is not one of those cases.

Tabacconists Smoking is Green (Economy of Language)
With Cherry Hill, NJ threatening to make it illegal to smoke on municipal properties OUTSIDE and rotten fuck fascists on Capital Hill making a big stink about the beyond-wealthy ending up in gutters if we tax 'em as they should be in order to avoid economic doom, what better time to discuss this record by smoking and Socialism enthusiasts Scott Foust and Frans De Waard? Both men have long and exemplary careers of fringe electronic music behind them, but together they are the Tobacconists, an outfit that celebrates the joys of smoking. I don't smoke myself and am not terribly familiar with much of de Waard's work, but releases involving Scott Foust are at best revelatory, and at worst at least provocative, forcing all kinds of questions about personal taste to be asked, so it was an easy trigger to pull. This album has two components; there is a CD featuring Smoking is Green: A Radiophonic Opera in Four Cigarettes, which is music by De Waard and dialouge from Foust (w/ announcements provided by Karla Borecky) about why, from an environmental perspective, smoking is good for the planet. Again, not being a smoker I have little stock in this argument but it is both correct and hilarious ("Bad Liberal's Dream" in particular). Certainly a lot of planning went into both the composition and execution of this production, but it's not really the type of thing I personally need to hear more than a few times. Luckily the LP is more substantial, featuring the kind of delicate electronic atmospherics these guys are known for without the distraction of spoken word elements. Six songs that present an individual theme and manipulate it in a focused manner, finding itself among such welcome company as Harold Budd, Heldon and that fertile period right around when John Fothergill left NWW (and possibly the Pink Floyd of Animals? Lot of sheep and bird sounds, I'm just saying). Admittedly, these guys are so damn good at this kinda thing it seems like they could cook it up in their sleep, but what are 'ya gonna do, be mad at them about it? Really solid listen here.

Useless Eaters "New Program" + 2 (Anti Fade)
I've heard the name Useless Eaters before and always figured them to be a KBD-influenced outfit (blame the automatic association the brain makes with "I'm Useless" and Nervous Eaters for that)[Ed.-oh duh, the Vomit Pigs song! Whatever tho, that's a four figure record only a Jap./Euro could luv]. It is not so. Instead their music is highly indebted to the late Jay Reatard. Of course it was only a matter of time before people started mining his song book for inspiration (and I suppose they were doing it plenty while he was still alive), as many figure him to be a very influential presence on what they find appealing about modern Punk/Garage. I can't say I'm one of them, but I'll try to be as impartial as possible while reviewing this recent 7" from the solo project of Nashville's Seth Sutton. It is a bit difficult though; whereas Reatard had a semblance of legitimacy (and talent) about him, most of this record comes off like the work of a kid who grew up on Pop Punk but got wind of the next big trend in time to give it a go. And I don't mean that as in a conscious pursuit of measurable success or whatever, 'cos I certainly don't know or care what the guy's intentions are, but more in terms of riding a pretty tasteless wave towards some sort of recognition. Or more likely he just digs Jay Reatard a lot and his band reflects this, but he's going about it in a pretty boring way. "People in this world are out of touch" Sutton laments on "New Program", but if he's under the impression that his song writing is any more consequential than the vapid tripe composing most of what I guess you'd call "Popular Music" today than I think he may be out of it as well. By no means am I saying that every artistic statement has to be an attempt to extirpate all commercial prospects from the final product, but seriously, this is some slick, candy cane shit, and I cannot hang.

Gareth Williams/Mary Currie Flaming Tunes (Blackest Ever Black)
In a prime example of how things work in the wakkky, 'anything goes' world of muzak these days a UK label specializing in goth-influenced Techno popular among Europeans and those who wish to be like them puts out the first official vinyl edition of the 1985 cassette from ex-This Heat bassist/multi-instrumentalist Gareth Williams and Mary Currie, who I am completely devoid of information on. Being as This Heat is a perrenial fave I gave this 'un a whirl despite the stupidly expensive pricetag ("Boy am I glad I don't care about dance music," I thought to myself as I ordered, "this shit sure is pricey!" Then I pondered the money I've sunk into "experimental" and Psych reissues over the last month and sheepishly got off my high horse). Once mislabeled "This Heat's final demo recordings" to Williams's dismay, however, anyone expecting something similar to his previous band might be disappointed, as this project was a deliberate attempt to eschew their aggressive nature in favor of more polished material. What that translated to was a series of carefully assembled, ethereal gems with an almost austere dedication to craft. Other Anglo Art-Pop dips, like the last two Talk Talk albums, "Outdoor Miner" or a less perverted Kevin Ayers spring to mind, as does what Mayo Thompson may have sounded like had he come up in late 70's UK 'stead of 60's TX. It's commendable how effortlessly things flow even when the songs are quite loosely connected, like how a string-driven ballad with an Another Green World feel to it ("Breast Stroke") can be followed by field recordings of crickets, tribal percussion and a simple piano phrase ("Raindrops from Heaven") and sound fitting. I wouldn't call it essential by any stretch, but price and the kind of annoying aura of inflated importance this thing has acquired, probably more due to it selling out from label and distros quick than anything, this is definitely a nice disc to have on hand for both the 'Heat completist and anyone with an ear for competent, contemplative Pop. 

Back from the Rave w/ More Useless Reviews:

Huh, been a little while since a "proper" update I suppose. That can be attributed not to a lack of recent acquisitions, but rather a lack of working computer, motivation and/or anything enlightening to say about whatever records found their way under my beady gaze. Coupled with the fact that in the rare instances I had access to a computer and time to write, it wasn't music that got the priority, and you get no posts. To date arguably only one of these circumstances has been rectified, and indeed it seems like little more than a waste of time to offer my shit-takes. I certainly don't have it in me to keep up with the rate of good music being produced, and I can't imagine the drudgery of doing it for every new release gripped. Many others are out there to make a better (and worse) job of it. But occasionally something I hear will elicit a reaction and accompanying urge to expand it into multiple long-winded sentences. At least it saves me from spending $ at the bar on some nights. Probably post one more of these review-centered updates shortly, then focus will be shifted to a slightly more worthwhile endeavor, the fifth and final issue of PtMiiC. The hair on your tits will undoubtedly stand on end when viewing its contents in the relatively distant future. 'Til then throw that fuggin' baby out wit tha bath water:

Astor Alcor (Kye)
Yeesh, this Astor "joint" right here, it's a doozey, OK? Compiled from a bunch of questionably extant CDRs, this has got to be one of top schoolings Lambkin's laid on us in a minute. And yeah sure, I'll bite at most anything a label with Kye's track record puts out, but dunnit mean I'ma always swallow it (like, that Bassett/Lubeski collaboration was more 'n' little so/so, if you really want me to name names). Everything 'bout this one just screams "stoned, sneezing out the blue stuff and bawled up in the fetal position 'round 3:30 A.M., alternating crying w/ laughing because you're afraid of the future." In other words, THIS IS THE RECORD FOR YOU! I kid, of course. Certainly one doesn't have to be a socially inept miscreant to get something out of this album, but I'm sure it don't hurt any. All that's really required is an ear for choice sound sculpture, which Astor's got in spades. Proceedings start off oddly pedestrian, our Australian tour guide introducing banal field recording sources like dripping water and a fog horn. This seems to be nothing more than a tactic to throw off the unassuming listener though, as these ubiquitous samples get transformed into dense aural collages approximating the confusion inherent to indenity-less non-states. Those that exist bewteen suburb and metropolis, right before the trip kicks in, etc., is the kinda picture I'm getting at least. Fittingly enough, and I acknowledge that it might just come from label affiliation, but the presence of both Vanessa Rosetto (whose semi-recent LP is on route to my dwellings as I type) and Moniek Darge's work seems to loom fairly large over a substantial portion of this LP. Somehow Alcor seems to be held together by an even thinner thread of sanity than the work the latter two fine artists typically put out, at times cruder but no less beautful. At any rate, the subtle musicality of these pieces becomes increasingly apparent on each subsequent listen. In fact, it's strange to think that these tracks were originally featured on different releases, such is the natural  flux of each slowly forming, interweaving piece. Love to hear whatever else is up this lad's pantaloons. "Highest Possible Recommendation"-Ha!

John Cage Shock (EM/Omega Point)
Dismissing John Cage makes about as much sense as dismissing the Beatles. It is simultaneously a pointlessly contrarian position and a fool's game, as with the former you not only miss out some kinda alrite sounds, but his influence on popular culture is so vast you no doubt enjoy many things he's informed, if you enjoy anything worthwhile at all. More so than the Beatz even, I find many of the things Cage influenced to be infintely more enjoyable than his own work, but still make time for him. And hey, speaking of the fab four, Yoko Ono's annoying ass is sprinkled all over this, a collection of John Cage and friends '62 tour of Japan, oringinally released in a three CD set that this takes pieces from, as well as adding a Tudor reading of George Brecht's Incidental Music (so in other words, to own it all you need the CD and Vinyl version. Keen marketing EM, but two LPs of shock is enough for me). This is pretty legendary stuff, all or atleast most of it seeing first release here, and it's presented beatifully with a stunning booklet of photos from the period (shit like Joi Boi wearing glasses with wires poking out of them and making nice w/ a geisha). The sounds are quite agreeable as well. We'll take 'er piece by piece: first is the side long 26'55.988", written for 2 pianists and a string player (and evidently Yoko Ono's whining). It's starts off with a bit of wonderfully jarring atonal piano and long passages of suspended-note violin shrieking. The parts where you can't hear Ono are the best, but on the whole she does little to detract from the power of the piece. Side two begins with Toshi Ichiyangai's Music for Piano #7 as played by himself and Tudor, which is an array of sparse handling of the black 'n whites with crude electronics in the background. Tudor's rendition of Incidental Music is the shortest work of the set and a much-needed come down after the previous two, it providing one result out of the many that present themselves when a piano, wooden blocks, a camera and dried peas are in the same room. Oh the possibilities! Side three is dedicated to 0'00", the follow-up to infamous 4'33", and it was probably more fun to see in person than listen to, as it's simply a highly amplified recording of Cage sitting at a desk with funny glasses on smoking and writing. I imagine it to be perfect fodder for those who call this kind of music boring and pretentious. Luckily we are saved by the incredible take on a Cage/Tudor favorite 'round these parts, "Variations II", that comprises the final side. The sound of amplified piano dominates as massive, harsh washes of sound are interspersed with long and indetermite passages of a tense, brooding calm. Brilliant, aggressive and so far ahead of its time it is almost unbelievable, besides the third side this is very exciting, some might even say "essential", shits.

Dovers S/T (Turn Back)
Here's an obviously bootlegged version of a legitimate 10" release from a few years back from one of the premier lost-to-tyme acts, southern California's Dovers. Why review a bootleg you ask? I'll have to hit you with a "you go" on that one, 'cos this is MY low-traffic music blog and I do what I want here. Fur one, the 10'er been OOP for a good while now, and fur two, the smart feller who pressed this up figured why not just put all four terrific 45's the Dovers recorded during their short tenure on one side of wax? Hell, they fit there, and it'll save 'ya from flipping! Well thanks a ton whoever you are, 'cos there's certainly nothing I like doing less than hauling myself out of the silken hammock I listen to records in. But what really makes this worth metioning is the incredible strength of the material. It takes an awful lot for me to get exited over a retro-Garage act, but from 9/65 'til round about 5/66 the Dovers spit nothin' but hot fyre, and anybody with an interest in varied mid-60's Rock would be a fool not to take note. The track listing is switched around here and does not indicate the order in which the songs were cut, but it does start off with one of my favorites of the lot, down beat folk rocker "About Me." It features a great appropriation of a minor chord Beatles-esque riff with a weird 'ding-sound' to it, kinda recalling the moody down-tempo feel of the Contents Are album or a less precious Fredric. The whole comp. is out of whack chronologically, but with only 9 months under their belt the Dovers always affected a fairly hopeless, if not at times delusional, sensibility, though the confident songwriting jumps from school dance teen sounds to tough Garage to early Psych seamlessly. Songs that attempt a positive outlook just come off awkward, though in an intensely endearing way. Just take this creepy as fuck line from "What am I Gonna Do"-"If you were 17, I'd still feel the same way." It's unclear what lead Tim Granada was getting at with that one, but it makes me wanna take a shower none the less. Then there's the masterful "The Third Eye", an intense Psych-Raga avalanche that some argue predates "Eight Miles High," which it bears quite a bit of resemblance to. In short, the D's smacked together four pefrect 45's in less than a year to complete one of the best runs a local Garage band could hope for, and if you don't got 'em in some format you probably kinda need to change that.

Eastlink S/T CS (Creep Dreams/Little Big Chief)
Australia keeps her obnoxious strangle hold on the American "underground" market tight with this promising demo from members of several other notable outfits, such as Total Control, U.V. Race, Lakes and Straightjacket Nation, originally issued domestically as the debut release on Creep Dreams, with a U.S. release faciliated through LBC. Seeing as these guys have been in literally a million other decent to very good bands it's highly unlikely they're gonna churn out downright dog food, and sure enough this is far from it. The first couple times through I found little sticking to the ribs, however, subsequent play-backs have shown it to be a bit of a grower as 'posed to shower. They've got a good enough sound going for 'em, with a piecrcing three guitar attack and plenty of interesting interplay, and interminttently through tapes run I'm reminded of everything from Country Teasers, Lamps, A-Frames, and the tight lock step of Brix-era Fall to Gun Club, second wave Scientists and X (funnily enough, the L.A. for once). Obviously those are good things, but for some reason about half the time it comes off like a couple cool riffs and recording tricks combined in a way that masks a lack of substantial songwriting. Not to say there aren't more 'n' few hightlights, and I think it's worth it to keep listening 'til you find them. Why on opener "Angel Gun" the singer even got me to agree that "Yes, you're right, I AM an Angel Gun" without even knowing what one is (though if the song title wasn't printed on the inside I'd swear he wuz callin' me an "asian cunt," which, for better or worse I certainly am not). Side A seems to be focused on the more Punk oriented material rather than the Psych/swamp noir of B, which actually works better the majority of the time. These folk surely have their hands full with other endeavors, but hopefully they keep some time set aside for this one, as I'd be interested to hear how they develop it. Limited to 100, probably gone or close to it by now, wah.

Folded Shirt "Tiny Boat" b/w "Mouth Clock" (Fashionable Idiots)
This record came out pretty long ago, but as it's the dying gasp of the all too brief, but impeccably documented, antics of Folded Shirt, I feel the need to honor the occassion with a few words. Folded Shirt were a band so committed to the idea of stupidity, to pure absurdity for the absurd's sake, that they make the other outfits members have or continue to serve time in (Homostupids, OWAB, Mr. California, etc.) look downright academic in comparison. Make no mistake about it though, this is Situationist Rock at it's finest, and I speculate that if Guy Debord were alive today he'd consider himself a fan. But back to the actual contents of the record...as is somewhat of the FS "trademark sound," songs are mainly carried along by a reasonably competent rhythm section while a clean guitar scratches around in its own enviornment (though on the B-side there seems to be more of an effort to play along with the rest of the band) and (what appear to be minimally distorted, possibly doubled up) vocals belt out lines like "He's a big man/in a tiny boat" and "dummy, dummy, dummy/mouth, mouth, mouth clock." Both songs also feature apropos field recordings, the A-side quite naturally that of a body of undulating water, and B-side, in what is possibly a nod to Pink Floyd's hit "Time" off of smash album Dark Side (ov 'da Moon), a ringing alarm clock. Each of the sound clips are followed by sort of an instrumental mini-song, so all in all I'd say you get like 3-3 & 1/2 songs on here, not just two. What a bargain! So that's the songs on the record pretty much. On the back of the sleeve the question pictured above is boldly posed. The line is drawn in the sand and I know which side I'm on. If Culturcide isn't befuddlingly abrasive enough for you, or you find the humor of Sockeye too comprehensible, there's a good chance you might be one too.

The Great Unwashed Clean Out of Our Minds (Exiled)
I've long enjoyed an illegal DL of this album, so it's great to see it re-issued and somebody get money who deserves it. The cleverly named Great Unwashed was the Clean sans Robert Scott after their first break up in 1983. It basically sounds exactly like the Clean material that presaged it, though with maybe a bit more focus on the "Bedroom Pop" side of things, and it's pretty much as good as anything they ever did under the proper moniker. Really that's all you need to know, and since your so fucking smart and have access to the internet I'm sure you already do. But a little more on the music I guess since I've already started writing. First of all, I don't really care for a large majority of the Flying Nun catalog, at least not the "Dundelin Sound" the Clean were very much responsible for popularizing, but that's not a comment on the band's quality, just I get my fill from the excellent anthology double CD on Merge (Oddities 2xLP just released on 540 is sick too tho) and a select few Chills, Bats 'n Verlaines tracks. Of course the choice smattering of releases that didn't fit this style in the infantile days of the label (yr. Rips, Pin Groups, Gordons and what have you), up until they threw Dead C a bone on the first couple albums, are a whole 'nother animal, but why anyone would spend much time scouring every nook/cranny of tepid late 80's/early 90's Indie is beyond me. Eh, whatever. Keep getting off track here. So as hinted at this is full of really great hooks informed ever so slighty by classic British Psychedlia, and if there's anybody I wanna hear take a swipe from Barret's song book and apply it to a bare bones early 80's Pop frame it's the brothers Kilgour. They understand what makes a song work, were at times willing to incorporate more open, experimental tendencies and in '83 they were at the top of their game, with plenty of good ideas left. There's maybe nothing as overtly lysergic and arresting as say "Point that Thing Somewhere Else" or "Fish" here, but they keep things interesting on tracks like "Quickstep," with nice touches like backwards tape tracking. Totally worthwhile reissue and one of the best examples of a style I have relatively little affinity for.

Metz S/T (Ossining)
In terms of truly obscure private LPs that both possess a great mystique AND aren't totally dispensable on a musical level, well, there are fewer left to be uncovered than there used to be. Thankfully, the self titled 1974 effort from Houston's Metz is one such example and this long-delayed gray area pressing ups the number of people who get a chance to hear it by more than a hundred percent, as only two have been found in the wild (one of which was accidentally broken by an associate of Rockadelic's Rich Haupt). As is noted in anything you're gonna read elsewherere regarding the album, it sounds like little else from Texas, possessing a sound much more akin to the early 70's UK Glam scene with a tasteful mix of hip Big City Funk. Cool shit for sure, particularly when considering some of the original touches the band added that make it stand as its own thing, like the sassy-as-fuck female vocals that steal the show on most tracks. Imagine if you replaced the goofy macho back-ups on Left End's Spoiled Rotten with a couple black chicks keen to the ways of tha game and you get a pretty good idea of what we're working with here. It's not perfect by any means, however, as with all but one song clocking in past the 4:00 minute mark and most featuring extended outros, things can get a little samesy quick in a way similar to something like Power of Zeus. Taken into account that this was likely a conscious move in order to make the songs more DJ friendly by offering longer time on the dance floor, however, and it at least makes sense. Indeed, if you plan to play it out nearly any track is sure to be good fodder for a party-type situation (like the lead off, with its chorus posing the question "Do ya wanna party?" f'instance). The lack of information is a bit of a bummer too, but I guess that's more due to the fact that there really is no one around that seems to remember anything of the band, besides the fact that Houston area musician of the time John Melzler had some hand in it, so nothing 'ya can do about that. Plus, how could anyone not get behind a record with a song called "Slap Dat" on it?

Mordecai "Drag Down" b/w "Waste" (Wantage USA)
Another piece to the puzzle unravels with this newish single from Montana's Mordecai, a band whose debut 12 incher really blew me a new one when I heard it late last year. In an age where Rock music, especially that of the vaugely defined "Garage" variety, is by and large stillborn, Mordecai offer a shining example of how to get things done with class and dignity still firmly intact. There's no carbon copy throwbacks to any era on this or previous discs thus far, just a focused distillation of whatever root it is that gives all the best Midwest Art-Rock its intuitive and unassuming weirdness. Real salt of the Earth type shit; zero pretension but a natural "otherness" that could likely come from the unchecked psychological abuse of older siblings (two of 'em are bros fittingly enough, both born at seperate Dead shows), being called "faggot" by public school knuckle draggers and a sophisticated realization of the generally harsh landscape one's got to deal with from an early age on. The A-side, "Drag Down", starts with a nice bit of feedback before giving way to drums that sound like a Scott Asheton practice take, a worldview similar to Bowie's as filtered through Todd Tamanend Clark, and a buzz 'n chug that's all their own. Admirable stuff. "Waste" is what they're calling the B-side, but I find it to be far less a waste of time than many other efforts I've heard in passing as of late. It's got a bit more swagger than the flip, slowly revealing itself like John Cale underneath his trench coat circa Sabotage/Live. Not sure there's a whole lot more I could ask from a single, lest it were to grow dainty, yet powerful, hands and give my rug-a-tug. Despite my hopes that don't seem to be happening, but I'd still rate this one of the better sevens that's crossed my plate in 2012.

Mountain Cult S/T (Little Big Chief)
Although I thoroughly enjoyed the debut self-released Mountain Cult 7" E.P., I thought they might fair a little better on the long playing format (Really, I'm not making that up! Just look down a couple posts). Their brand of marble-mouthed, slumping failure Rock just seemed more suited for extended grooves, 'ya know? Luckily, I didn't have to wait all that long to find out, as Little Big Chief chose their first foray into non-Austrailian-related music to be the band's debut 12 incher. After plunking this thing down I sure was surprised at just how right I was though-the LP is seriously leaps ahead of the already pretty good single from last year! The whole current is just so utterly devoid of dynamics and life it's like the band channeled the very state of what I imagine a brief wake up from nodding out feels like. And look, I don't wanna make any presumptions about someone I never met, nor am I some fuckin' toddler who thinks bands who do drugs are k3wl, nor do I even give a single fuck about "authenticity" in my art, but damn-if the guy "singing" these words doesn't have a thing or two in common with Phil Anselmo besides playing in a sick band he sure is a fine actor. It's funny too, being that so much of the problem in regard to making memorable song-based music these days lies largely in many band's dedication to obscure vocals and lyrics ('cos they don't got nothing to say?), instead of treating them like another fundamental instrument, that the arrant mumbling comprising Mountain Cult's vocal dept. can be so charming. I think it's due much in the fact that as everyone knows Rock is beyond dead, and this band seems to celebrate the notion rather than fight it. Their songs don't just sound deconstructed, but totally decayed from the start. The references that jump to mind don't hurt either, mainly a bass throb that sounds more like the synth on those early Suicide demo's during the extended A-side closer " All Eyes on Her" or the jolt given when flipping the record over for an even more shambolic take on "Ferryboat Bill," complete with Legendary Guitar Amp Tapes fidelity in "Overachiever." Or the overall feel of a dingier Art Phag/Cramps played at 16 RPMs. My gripe about artwork remains though-whoever the band's letting put their sleeves together is asleep at the wheel. Other than that, top notch muff. If my description sounds like it might be up your alley then forget about trimming up that neck beard and head on over to http://littlebigchief.bigcartel.com/. It beats leaving the house any day.

New Dawn There's a New Dawn (Jackpot)
New Dawn were a short lived, all-things-Armageddon-obsessed rural Oregon unit who played up and down the West Coast starting in '67 or so, and whose sole private release from 1970 has gained quite a bit of notoriety in predictable circles, serving as something of a benchmark for gloomy, introspective Xian Psych. It's a record that, much like the best of local one-off privates, emanates a very distinct and weird atmosphere, even if the songs themselves aren't particularly strange. Throughout its course a defeated, downtrodden current is never far from the surface, even on tracks that are relatively upbeat in tempo, like "Dark Thoughts." Conversely, songs with a supposedly uplifting message, such as "Proud Man", have a tasteful wave of world-weary cynicism to them that educes a tangible sense of maturity. Essentially this is teen-beat for adults, a sort of grown up answer to more ambitious Midwestern Garage combos like Mystery Meat or the Bachs, complete with eery lyrics and vibe but with an overall tightened/cleaned up approach to musicianship and accompanying recording quality. Rainy day favorites Neon Pearl sprang to mind after none too many spins as well. I was originally a bit thrown off by the laid back good time feel of the eponymous opening track (which repeat plays have revealed to be a fine cut) as I've been curious 'bout this record for a while but never actually heard it, and everything I've read led me to believe this was a serious downer of an LP, but that song is not representative of the entire record, which showcases a mix of understated songwriting interspersed with sick organ breaks and killer fuzz amid the perpetually dreary, longing semblance. It is also to the band's credit that, again much like the Bachs/Meat Shitz, they were able to offer 12 originals of varying styles that manage to come together as a cohesive whole. I can't really pinpoint why, but the packaging of Jackpot's releases have always seemed kinda tacky to me. Gotta hand it to 'em with this one though, first time a vinyl reissue (there have been quite a few boots and Jackpot put out an authorized CD version in '09 w/ some bonus tracks) has been sourced from the master in the 40+ years since its release and both sounds and looks great. A record that's worth its considerable praise in collector circ-jerks as well as a shit ton of repeated flips.

Repulse "Habershon Ways" (Cameleon)
This here's a definte artefact that would have slipped right on by me unknowningly had it not been given a proper re-evaluation via new French label Cameleon, so a tip of tha hat's certainly in order for that. Just as Soggy were sort of an early, dumbed down French response to the Stooges or the Dogs to Flamin' Groovies, a heady basement take on VU/Modern Lovers prevails on this forgotten groups sole 1982 extended play. In other words, a heavily French accented Screamin' Mee Mees is what we can consider it to be. References to Rob Jo Star Band are also bound to be made given the country of origin and retro feel, but this is way less weird. Opener "Sweeties" features buckets of fuzz on the guitar, ridiculous bass playing way out front and an over-confident sneer that betrays the musician's lack of skill, lending itself to comparisons with earlier American group Neutral Spirits squarely. "Saturday Night Gig" follows and is the good-timey sock hop tune that perhaps Jonathan Richman should have listened to before recording all those cartoonish albums where his name precedes that of the band on the cover. B-side is pretty cool as well, featuring two more tracks at 33 RPM that follow in a similarly ramshackle path as fellow countryman Dandelion, though nothing that pipes quite so hard as the first track. Certainly one can't help but notice the derivative nature of this stuff, and delineating it two 2nd, even 3rd tier status isn't necessarily unfair. Still, it functions well as an out-of-place document, paying homage to a highly romanticized period from a vantage point that is itself a distant memory by now. If that sounds like too much of a qualification for enjoyment than by all means pass it up, your life will surely not be dramitacally altered one way or the other. But really, there's always room for more 2nd rate Velvets, so long as they aint from present-day Brooklyn (and thus completes my requirement for both uninspired writing and a NYC-music jab all in one review)!

Shitlickers 1982 (Noise Not Music)
The Shitlickers were one of those groups so menacing and self-destructive sounding it seems, nothing to say of logical, that the only possible environs for them to profligate in was some filthy squat covered with malt liquor forties and empty gas cans in the early 80's, for just long enough to record one blistering 7" and then implode. If we are to (I believe correctly) suppose Discharge to be the European equivalent of Black Flag in terms of scope of influence, it's safe to say that Shitlickers were on par with your Urban Waste's, Deep Wound's or Koro's as far as taking that prime influence's speed/anger to the breaking point. Their sole single has been reish'd/bootlegged ad-nauseum by this point, but what really makes this one special is the B-side containing unheard (to me atleast) material of impeccable quality. Just one listen to the absurd dying cat sound that abrasively cuts through the middle of "Night of the Holocaust" is all the enticement a fan of noise, as opposed to music (the philosophical position, not record label), could possibly need for purchase. There's really not much more I can write that the band didn't say better, so in place of a conclusion to this review I leave a verbaitim transcription of the entire lyric sheet, in order to highlight the depth of insight these Punx had into topics of interest circa '82:

"Warsystem"

Warsystem. Warsystem. Warsystem. Now

"Armed Revolution"

No system works. Armed Revolution. Fuck 'em all. Fuckin' shit.

"Sprakta Snutskallar"

Kor upp batongen i analen

Kor upp batongen i analen

Sprackta, sprackta, sprackta snutskallar

"The Leader (of the Fuckin' Assholes)"

Who tell the cunts to do what they do?

The leader of the fuckin' assholes.

"Silence"

Fear. Fear. Desperation. Silence.

"Desperate Scream from the Heat"

Fire. Fire. Desperate scream from the heat.

"The Night of the Holocaust"

The night. The night of the holocaust.

"No System Works"

No system works. Oh yeah.

No. No system works.

Witch We Intend to Cause Havoc Boxset (Now or Again)
First off, this massive 6 LP box of all the early to mid 70's output from Zambian Garage/Psych/Funk hero's Witch (whose name is an acronymn for the very title of this set) has gotta earn the best bang per buck margain I've come across in years. The selling price for this thing is seriously less than the two titles in it Shadocks released, the quality is high and the sound, while I certainly don't have no originals with which to spot-check, serves the heavy as fuck grooves well. And look folks, I don't claim to be a scholar on Afro-Rock, but if there's a better or more consistent example than the five album run captured in this box (not to mention the album's worth of non-LP singles included) I've yet to hear it. Which is entirely possible. Africa's a big place, and I hear a lot of music's come out of it. But back to the materials in question; the first two LP's, Introducing and In the Past, besides being connected by cover art which appears to come from the same photo-session, share a heavy Stones infatuation, though replacing Blues influence for the type of rhythms that just seem to come natural to this lot (see the latter's "Mushed Potatoe" for evidence). It's great shit, with endearing touches like an actual introduction to the entire band on the former's reasonably-titled opening "Introduction" (which the band stresses is in English on the sleeve), but the third record, Lazy Bones, is where they really hit their stride, a consummate masterpiece of loose, dark and pulsating Psych-Fuck that illustrates the term as well as any in a sub-sub-genre rife with profit driven dealer hype-turned let downs. It's also one of the rarest records to come from the continent, and supposing one had the insane luck of actually finding an OG, it'd likely be thrashed, if history is any indication. Right from the mournful opening chords of "Black Tears" it exudes the harsh realities of life on a poverty stricken, sun bleached plot of Earth. One could probably write a disertation on the socio-cultural implications of a song like "Motherless Child"-how the group incorporates Western song forms to tell a tale the West is very much responsible for, but I'll just say it smokes as hard as anything Damon ever laid to wax and leave 'er at that. The follow ups, Lukombo Vibes and Including Janet (Hit Single) [what a fuckin' title] lacked the immediacy and presence of their predecessor, but are fine works of increasingly Funk oriented damaged Ethnic sounds, having more in common with traditional Zambrock and electric Miles than the appropriated English R & B of the early records, though still very enticing to fans of bent World Music on the whole. Comes with nearly faithful repo's of the amazing original sleeve/label art and thick booklet I've yet to really dig into. You will seriously never own any of these records in original form and this set's a steal if I've every seen one.

A Mysterious Video

A Worthwhile Musical Event:

Philadelphia area residents with class are strongly suggested to attend.

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Also, catch Servant Stairs w/ Pink Reason and Motorcycles 9/9 in Allentown, PA. Sportman's Cafe. 8 P.M. 21+.