Excerpts

Just to prove that I am actually working on this and it will eventually exist, here are some excerpts from issue V:

From "The Journalist's" contribution, an article on the similar trajectories of various forms of grating music:

If you've ever wondered what a William Burroughs/Sachiko M collaboration would sound like I advise picking this ‘lil gem up and listening a hundred times or so. It only gets stronger, and a clearly-defined logic becomes apparent, the closer one listens, long passages of surprisingly well thought out electronic experimentation offering great pacing for the humorous story, that seems as much a critique on an undiscerning acceptance of anything related to faaarrr ouuuttt 60’s counter culture as it does an indictment of square society, so prevalent at the time in the freak flag scene from which I rest assured they sprang.


From an interview with Scott Foust:

SF-Well I’ll tell you a different story (laughs). I call this “The curse of Harry Partch.” You know Harry Partch? He was a weirdo composer, eccentric composer, built all his own instruments...

P-Yeah.

SF-In the early 80's I saw a documentary about him on public TV, and there's a scene in it where he had a label, he had his own label because no one would do the records, called Gate 5, and there's a scene in it where he's boxing up these records and he's this old man boxing up these records to send to distributers to sell his records, and I saw this thing and I thought “That is the fucking coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life! I want to be just like that!” Well here it is, I am just like that, and it's not so cool.

From an interview with Good Area:

A-A good label shouldn't be a potpourri, it shouldn't just be a big pot where 'ya go in the closet and you take every single thing that you have on hand and 'ya throw it in. It should be a bit more considered. You might be cooking a quiche that has different elements that are, that might be unexpected, elements to put side by side in the same dish, but it should be like a good quiche (laughs) where the sort of differing elements, they should accentuate the differences and accentuate the flavors and like the parameters of each individual item.

From review of Cured Pink "S/T":

On this ‘un, with the help of some buds, he paints a pretty rare bird of dark Psychedelic exploration, sorta like the logical extension of Father Yod, with focus shifted towards electronics rather than fascistic orgies. I’m often reminded of early UK Industrial too, the kinda stuff that still had one foot in Rock, like Cab Voltaire or the extended live version of Leather Nun’s “Slow Death.” A bit of a hippy take on SPK too? At times it ‘aint even too far removed from the type of snuff Twink was flingin’ on Think Pink. And why not? Let’s through it all in there!

From review of V/A Wandelweiser und so Weiter:

And sure, that’s easy to make fun of (Ey vant to fvck ze heir conidizioter! Zuch bootifull zounds it maycake!), but is it really any worse than cartoon Punk-ity Punks with their leather gloves and fire crackers, or scruffy fake Psych dudes who talk Privates but play Dino-Jr. covers, or “edge men” who live the artisanal life style-wearing freshly procured designer clothes, brushing their teeth w/ organic plant cum toothpaste and ridin’ about town on café racers w/ goofy Clark Kent/Hitler Youth haircuts flappin’ in the breeze? I mean, fuck everybody, really.

All this and plenty of surprises await for the discerning music journalism consumer in a short few weeks, so keep checkin' in as we await the climactic finale of PtMiiC's existence.

 

Issue V Update, A Live Show Review and A True Story About Sexual Identity

Huh, it has certainly been a little while, hasn't it? Obviously I didn't quite make good on the self-imposed deadline for issue V, but that is par for the course. The issue also underwent a lot of changes in format (like pulling the plug on any outside contributions, it's just too much of a pain in the ass to keep track of that stuff). It is still in the works though and close to completion. Probably available in October for the very few that care. Just wanted anyone who stumbles across this thing to know we're still kickin'.

I also flaked on those live reviews too. Not sure why I ever bothered mentioning them, as I don't even have time for the shit I've already committed to. And I hardly get out as it is. I did see Richard Youngs on his U.S. tour a few nights ago though, so let me tell 'ya about it: Dick was phenomenal, legitimately weird and kinda terrible at the same time. Largely acapella, which is to be expected, but somehow it really caught me off guard all the same. At one point he urged the audience to vocalize the bass line from "Life on a Beam" since he didn't have a bass guitar, and stamp their feat during the chorus to recreate the drum part. Now that sounds stupid, and it was, but it was also sorta perfect. Too bad he didn't try out any of the songs from that D-Beat record he just put out! The opening band was some clown college pseudo-improv "flutter music" that sounded very, uh..."heartfelt."And utterly predictable. I skipped the second band for fear of more of the same. How's that for a review?!

After the show me and my bud Dirty D hit up a few local watering holes, as you couldn't anything into the weird chapel the show was at. We were discussing Youngs's performance at our final spot and a, presumably closeted homosexual, male sitting next to us at the bar kept leaning into the conversation and nodding and looking really creepy with his beady eyes (not creepy 'cos he was (I assume) gay, more creepy 'cos like man, leave me the fuck alone I'm just talking to my bud about something of which you have no useful input). At one point this gentlemen inserts himself into our conversation with something along the lines of "I'm not gay, but I just wanted to say you guys are really attractive and seem smart" (can't argue with him there). 

"Heh, thanks, man."

He proceeds to talk about how he's a musician and has a blog reviewing all of the records on "Rolling Stones 500 Greatest Albums of All Time" or whatever (can't make this shit up). At one point he asks if he's creeping us out, to which we both affirm. He doesn't lay off and we leave 'cos it was really annoying and getting late anyway. He asks for D's phone number, furthering our suspicions that this man took a fancy to his wiry, twink-like frame and soft, feminine features. An easy transition for someone not comfortable in his own shoes, I'd hazard. During the walk home we questioned how anyone could make music, or any kind of art in general, if they weren't honest with themselves, such as this possibly gay man exemplified. It strongly recalled the opening lines of Youngs's set that night. He opened with "Spin Me Endless in the Universe" off his new, vaguely country-themed LP Summer Through my Mind. You make the call, friend, and never be afraid of being yourself. It's all you've got to hold onto in this hell hole of a world.

Don't worry 'bout those April Showers...

our buddy Al's got 'ya covered.

Hello loyal blog-readership (tumble-weed rolls across screen), you may have thought we were hibernating here at PtMiiC HQ over the last few months, but it couldn't be further from the Truth! Instead, we've been busily hacking away at the massive amount of content planned to fill the fifth and final issue we mentioned so many months ago, and now seems as good as a time for an update as ever. Deadline is still on schedule, so expect something before Cold Sun's "Here in the Year" becomes an apt soundtrack for your seasonal surroundings, though I've pushed back contributor deadlines to end of June instead of beginning. The format will be full size this time (that's ledger 11x17 in.) which will allow us a chance to really stretch things out, and I feel confident in saying right now that there should be a lot of expanded art work to accompany this issue, along with writing by not only "The Editor" and "The Journalist," but some folks that have been supportive of our humble zine since day one.

So the other day I was nugged at of my gored for the first time in awhile (unfortunately pot and writing simply do not compliment each other for me) and whilst shufflin' aimlessly 'round the Internet I decided to click a link to the Distort blog 'an see what DX's been up to. Imagine my surprise to find that a perceptive write-up on the entire run of 'Coffins' to date had been posted just a few hours earlier! Check that out here, and really, it goes without saying that the blog is worth perusing in whole, as it seems to be getting frequent updates as of late and Dan puts most writer's (myself certainly included) to shame. (And not to get all ass-bruned over a review, but just to clarify in RE: to my original Ambulance review, any purchase of a record of that value would be looked upon more as an investment, and, as it was priced (relatively) low, a smart one at that. I don't go around dropping C-note after C-note on marginal Power Pop. Was more looking at it like I could likely trade this record for very desirable item(s) somewhere down the line or at very least get my cash back, but yeah, whatever. As for "genre exclusivity", you'll have to ask "The Journalist" about that, I'm still scratching me h'ead.)

Huh, what else? Well if your reality looks anything like mine, between the hours of roughly 3-5 PM, Monday-Friday, time tends to linger in suspended animation, progressing slower than an Antonioni-filmed sex scene starring two senior citizens. One recent recommended divertissement, pending you have access to the internet during these, or any other tedious moments of the day, can be found in issue one of Surround online magazine, a new publication edited by Mark Flaum (with consultation provided by Jon Abbey) that focuses on EAI and other contemporary areas of abstract Experimental musics/musings. As is typically the case with coverage of such subject matter, I find the writing a little dry, stuffy and precious, but if you're interested in the topics of inquiry this provides a great resource, as the depth of insight is extensive. Of particular interest, I would imagine, to most 'Coffin' readers are pieces on Kevin Drumm, Vanessa Rossetto and Graham Lambkin's Amateur Doubles, but I've definitely gotten something out of every article, academic verbiage (of which their honestly isn't that much) be damned. Dig here: http://surround.noquam.com/issue-1/

I guess that's all for now. Tomorrow I make the trek North East (as in New England, not like Fox Chase) to interview a Great Man, indeed the Last of a dying breed, for the issue in question. I'm thinking that I might actually keep this space more active in the next few months, maybe post some live reviews and what not, as Issue V gets closer to hittin' the streetz, so keep an eye out if you find such a prospect enticing. Until then keep it trippy mane...

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.