Tales from the Attic
Revolutions of a 45 and 33 kind….
The silly season is upon us and in that I mean the World Cup. We’ve been decorating the Sunday Experience tree house in all manner of colourful bunting whilst indulging in a little kick a bout which aside being a tad dangerous given we are precariously perched on not quite the most sturdy branch in the tree kingdom (think final scenes from ‘the Italian Job’ – the original and not the naff reboot from a few years back) means that I have to shin up and down the tree with annoying frequency to fetch the ball that is after we’ve first surveyed the area is clear and free from accidents such as those reported in the village journal of passers by having been struck by football dropping out of skies and such sort. The local vicar has declared it an apocalyptic portent. Anyway the tournament itself already looks like shaping up to be a contest where reputations will be trashed, Spain already humbled by the Dutch, Costa Rica taking apart Uruguay and the Brazilians undeservedly gaining three points due to questionable decisions by three officials who the less sceptical might well think were on the payroll – of course we joke but then scandal, bribery and dodgy dealings are as familiar to soccer as early England exits or so the Times would have us believe by way of their series of tales of corruption, collusion and cash exchanging in the light of revelations relating to the award to Qatar for the hosting of the 2022 World Cup. And talking of England, wasn’t that bad, I think we acquitted ourselves okay given we were up against one of the finest technically minded teams in the world. Okay Rooney’s desperation to break his World Cup duck may have been a contributing factory in why we never edged this and yes the tactical formation on the left in the first half was a concern leaving the Italians to run amok. Furthermore we lost the mid field too often in the first 45 and lacked pace and fluency – questions also need to be asked about the substitutions – Welbeck who at a time when, aside Sterling, was the best player in white cutting out many an Italo momentum. If there was any grumble to be had it was just that we suffered tactical naivety, up against a reserve keeper who favoured parrying to catching why didn’t we cotton on in the first half and ensure every time a ball went looping in that their were 2 / 3 waiting to pounce on the spillage. Ah well – in the final analysis we paid them to much respect. The positives – youth and er – well it was only 2-1 and not 5-1 cough cough – hello Spain. Our money’s still on the Argentine though by the time you read this they’d have probably been tonked by Bosnia.
Before we start with the records – just a little note to pass on our thoughts to the family of Rik Mayall who sadly passed away last week while news just in that Francis Matthews – the voice of Captain Scarlet has today passed away aged 86.
On the listening blocks this time amid this extended missive grooves from (sharp intake of breath)….
Bordellos, least carpet, endless caverns, outer vertex, kyle landstra, ruairi o’baoighill, creation VI, resource centre, divil a bit, cult of dom keler, cosmic dead, maps and diagrams, matt bouvier, dogs paper submarine, kakagaku moyo, sky lantern, centralstodet, Sheldon siegal, tobacco, jellies, Bernard cribbens, golden apples of the sun, dr lee, tops, mumrunner, moondust, morton valence, flights of helios, boris blank, gary numan, vomit face, damien olsen, 555, vacant lots, alan vega, heavy petting zoo, black fluo, daniel Jimenez, labasheeda, Algernon doll, echo and the bunny men, earthling society, horse party, six years, circulatory system, challenger, penelopes, ruins of kruger, c’mon tigre, steve dior band, limozine, manful, abba, palace of swords, griswolds, get the blessing, Isobel ccircle, white reaper, the chills, melmoth the wanderer, men oh pause, ummagma, time attendent, erotic market, fro skull, electro deluxe, oh/exoh, la piramide di sangue, revolutionary spirit, daisy victoria, gospel, oscillation, your smiling now but we’ll all be demons, principe valiente, shorts, welfare Wednesday, rainbow reservoir, tender prey, worthless, astronauts, tythe, be like Pablo, concretism, ak’chamel
Okay we’ve momentarily lost the press email that came attached to this so you’ll have to excuse us while we scratch our backsides trying to look for fab news as to the goings on of Ewan Grant for it is he who is Algernon Doll. Now as said we’ve mislaid the press blurb but we are gathering that ‘suicide’ has been ripped from the forthcoming ‘omphalic’ full length due soon via struggle town records. An absolute buzz fuzzed nugget that manages to at once draw into its bent out of shape bubble grooving, elements of slacker, grunge and 50’s teen pop amidst which it peppers west coast motifs albeit shock treated and zapped into a dandy and discordant dinky thing that arrives armed to the teeth with hooks to swoon and chorus’ to coo all of which despite its title transmits feel good vibes of effervescence to go, a bit like imagining a gathering of Nirvana, Weezer and Gumball types partying in studio down time with Ariel Pink the master of ceremonies. http://www.soundcloud.comabadgeoffriendship/algernon-doll-suicide
Pick up a copy of the latest issue of Mojo – the one with the Zep on the cover – and inside you’ll find a thoughtful and quite beautiful celebration of Pete de Freitas, the 25th anniversary of whose passing is next month. A unique character who managed to side step the petty rivalries that divided the Bunnymen, the teardrops and Drummond and someone who unified the spirit of the band who when without went amiss and after whose sad demise somehow with him took that essence and that mystique that set the Bunnymen apart from their peers. There’s no denying that without him the Bunnymen have been a distant shadow of their former selves. Coincidence then or a strange quirk of fate that ’meteorites’ appears in Pete’s anniversary month and finds the Bunnymen almost reclaiming the mojo they’ve seemingly lost for such an age. Evidence of such has come via the online previewing of ‘market town’ and the current single ‘lovers on the run’ – the former a seven minute nugget replete with some nifty kaleidoscopic riffage that veers into the soft psych quadrants of slipstream, my jealous god and fuxa albeit as though stirred through the trippy pre brit pop post baggy visors of the paris angels. The latter of course prime time Bunnymen time tunnelling to surface somewhere around ‘87 and ticking all the boxes on the cherry picking list – here you get Mac in full smoking croon, Will applying honeycombing 60’s motifs whose Venetian swirls nod to John Barry, the rest just mercurial pop done to elegant cool. So far so good, but is this all smoke and mirrors and does the rest of the set substantiate claims to be a return to form. Yes and no I’d have to say, there’s no denying that ‘meteorites’ is an ’echo’ to former glories, disappointingly it offers no surprises or departures, if I’m honest out side of die hard Bunny fans it’ll struggle to make end of year lists and will no doubt be forgotten by many the minute Mac’s parting croon fades into the ether. However its not all doom and gloom, with Youth on the decks you suspect there’s been a sense of quality control at play here, the production slick and symphonic hones in on the grandeur aspect of Will and Mac’s chemistry, the latter seemingly reigned in and stripped of his aloofness whilst the former allowed to express his nimble psychedelic signatures to wider effect. At its worst ‘meteorites’ is the Bunnymen by numbers, both ‘holy Moses’ and ‘is this a breakdown’ are to all intents and purposes served up on cruise control. That said gorgeously wrapped in the head swirling sultry tasting of smoked out arabesque signatures ‘Constantinople’ freefalls into ‘porcupine’ territories while the ghosts of ‘ocean rain’ clearly haunt the shadowy lines of ‘grapes upon the vine’s’ free-forming symphonic soul pop. Elsewhere the shimmering ‘explosions’ is indelibly dinked in a mercurial pop craft that’s undeniably the Bunnies own trademark. That said its left to the brace of tracks book ending ’meteorites’ that serve as the sets best moments. The parting ’new horizons’ is turned in a reflective confessional aura speared sumptuously to a softly unfurling redemptive shelling cowed in the realisation of ones frailty all haloed in purring symphonic swathes. However for us best moment without question is the divinely ached ‘meteorites’ which opens the albums account, ripped in a head bowed forlorn gravitas, there’s something tenderly tearful and crushed about this emotional epic, the way it rises genuflecting and trip wired in a vapour trailed euphoria jettisoned upon Barrett Floydian psych flights only to surrender, lick its wounds and regroup is simply a class apart.
One release we’ve been eagerly awaiting touch down is the latest opus from earthling society. Due out on the esteemed riot season imprint at the fall of June ‘England have my bones’ may well prove to be the most disturbed and fragmented head trip you’ve ever experienced and will hopefully see the Earthling dudes elevated to the top table of progressive psych. Keen eyed spotters among will duly note we mentioned the mind blowing ‘journey into satchidananda‘ a little while back, a skull melting reset of the Alice Coltrane nugget. We’ve just been sent sound links by Riot Season head honcho Andy and have been catching an earful of the parting title track while we try to secure advance CD’s. ‘England have my bones’ – the shortest cut on this four pronged freak out – a four minute come down that advances at speed attempting to normalise the trip effects amid a warping blizzard of sonic seizures and intermissions in varying states of scrambling critical meltdown. And then nothing. Except that is for the woozy haze as you pass through the reality threshold to be met by a sleepy dissipating dream like calm much like a Grails scripted lullaby.
So fond of this lot, so much so that you may be scratching your head wondering why we haven’t as yet got around to reviewing their debuting ‘cover my eyes’ full length for integrity. I’ll be honest, its been getting hammered so much that we’ve we been resisting committing to print because as it goes with these things that’ll mean filing it away and having to find another sweetheart with which to seduce our stereo with. rest assured much fondness and praise will be heaped upon it here next week. For now though ‘inbetween’ has just been released as a single -well I say single – more a free download included in the self produced fanzine ‘shut the fuck up’ which you can nab by completing the details section on the web site noted below. As to ‘inbetween’ what can we say – indelibly kissed with their now trademark buzz cool, there’s something simmering here curdled and coalesced in a bitter sweet opining country lilt which when scratched away at reveals a soft bruising and the kind of melodic mindset that draws its spirit from husker du though here rephrased through the sonic ear of quick space and yo la tengo. http://www.horseparty.wix.comhorsepartyhome/#!zine/c98k
Likewise Six years debut full length has been hogging the turntable of late and is primed for review in a day or two in case you were wondering. Here’s the video accompanying their latest single ‘this is the day’ which we mentioned a few a few weeks back. Showing a tender and spectral side, this hushed and hymnal beauty comes bruised in a softly stirred introspective murmur of a shy eyed Sundays sharing studio notes with a ‘geek love’ era Bang Bang Machine. Irresistible in short.
Kaleidoscopic intermissions from the inner psyche of W. Cullen Hart as phrased, coloured and brought to full on vivid weirdness by an assembled cast of players that reads like an Elephant 6 collective who’s who. Out soon via a limited double vinyl set on the cloud recordings imprint emerges ‘mosaics within mosaics’ from the Circulatory System promises to be a woozy and wonky affair, if that is ‘stars and molecules’ is anything to judge by. Across three minutes this radio dial twiddling ode to the golden age of pop tunes in and out of consciousness distractively swirling, dissipating and reforming through a myriad of guises like a sepia glowing lullaby lunar symphony tapping out crooked Beach Boys motifs that sound as though they’ve been left out in the sun to long to warp and fry whilst having cosmic fairy dust sprinkled upon them by Meek who in turn has applied his own trippy psychoid Spector-esque wall of sound to proceedings. Gem like. http://www.soundcloud.com/teamclermont/23-stars-and-molecules?in=teamclermont/sets/team-clermont-2014-press
Fluent in an mid 80’s pop vocabulary that brandishes the kind of transistor bouncing feel good affection that makes you want to revisit soundtracks adorning John Hughes films of the era for a spot of secret guilty pleasures quality time (see opening title track). Listening to Challenger’s second full length ’back to Bellevue’ is like boarding a time travelling odyssey into a forgotten world of hook hugging keys, thunderous beats and ear candy cinematic pop mirages wherein you’ll encounter the purring electro funk coolness of ’sweater weather’ which manages to snuggle itself into your affection between birdpen and swimmer one while the subtronic minimalist buzz pop ’sylvia’ is sugar crushed in all manner of spectral star twinkles waylaid in a divinely set hymnal ache. The album is currently being streamed at Entertainment Weekly in its entirety via http://www.music-mix.ew.com/2014/05/20/back-tobellevue-challenger-stream/?mc_cid=7c22c6a70&mc_ed=a245be6d3c
Those among you with powers of recent recall might well remember falling over ourselves dizzily demurred by the pristine 80’s electro sounds escaping from the grooves of the Penelopes’ latest lovely ‘time to shine. Well it seems Is Tropical have taken it upon themselves to add their own magic to the cause by revamping said cut and haloing it in a deeply succulent star lit sultriness that finds it shifting away from the originals fascination for the human league and instead entering into muscular euro pop sophisticated sonic strata’s more occasioned by Noblesse Oblige and to these ears simultaneously stealing a march on the coalescing cool stylising of the much missed Salon Boris. Available as a free download for one week (I think they are spoiling us now) via http://www.soundcloud.com/thepenelopes/the-penelopes-time-to-shine-is
I’m suspecting if they keep kicking out stuff like this then the Berlin based cassette imprint kitchen leg may well be featuring here on a regular basis. Alas only 60 copies of this to detune your headspace coming courtesy of the (we assume to be) debuting self titled release from ruins of kruger. These dudes play warped zonked out contortionist pop which admirers of all things foolproof projects ought to find of interest. Steeped in frenetic friction ruins of kruger twist and turn in a most distractive way into moments of no wave, art pop, math, slacker psychedelics and stoner ambience (as evidenced on the parting ‘space‘ which in truth sounds not unlike an out of it and noodling about after hours studio session for Danse Society‘s ‘seduction‘ recordings), their reference spectrum teetering and turning on an axis that one minute nods to th’ faith healers and quick space (with ‘in the middle of something’ being the clearest indicator, the next pavement and trumans water with the sounds assuming an almost skedaddled and schizoid free form ident lurking with ominous delight buttressed by awkward and angular time signatures delivered to a mix of playful jabs and full on combination punches. Admittedly we here are much taken by the freakily fragmenting Beefheartian blisters that surface on ‘die halbwaise’ while ‘lleprechaun’ has a skewed Stump meets Cravats warping to it whilst momentarily veering into pop strata’s – well we say pop – if that is your head space and notion of pop happens to freefall into the post punk wiriness of the Slits and the Au Pairs. Admirers of this heat / …and the native hipsters will be advised to sample the skewed delights of ’the sun’ whilst by scrunching up your ears there’s something shit faced and funkily noir in a zonked out Sonic Youth goofing about way that runs through the core of ’Null’. more please. http://www.kitchenlegrecordsberlin.bandcamp.com
Here’s the video to accompany that killer C’mon Tigre single mentioned elsewhere here……
Culled from a forthcoming and by all account killer full length entitled ‘songs for the wicked’, this is the Steve Dior Band doing beautifully bad things on your turntable with ‘hanging on to the backside of something good’ – a stirring fist clenching shot of cut cool blues groove which unless our ears do deceive (and they don’t on this occasion) sounds not unlike a chewing the fat studio get together featuring the assembled masses of the long ryders and crazy horse kicking out gnarled love notes to the Band. Between you and me – the coolest thing we’ve heard all day…..
I’m fairly certain that we’ve tripped across limozine on our travels over the years, latest single for the bear atlas imprint is a two pronged affair whose total duration clocks in at a no filler, fat or fancifulness 4.47 all in. these prickly barbs come dragged from an as yet untitled forthcoming fifth full length with ‘party on the bus’ leading out the charge in snot splattered spiky three chord fashion and sounding along the way not a million miles from anarchic buzz blues belch that the UK Subs used to nail to vinyl with rapid fire frequency. ‘tequila shots’ over on the flip edges matters in the favourite track stakes given it comes modelled in the stripy sonic strides of a secret era Chron Gen albeit with those imps splodgenessabounds trying to hoodwink the session recordings. http://www.soundcloud.com/youvebeenlimozined-1/limozine-party-on-the-bus
Just spent an hour watching a popdoc on BBC4 about Abba (Joy of Abba), basically an overview of Sweden’s pop aristocracy tracing their roots, arrival and ultimate demise, dealing with the arguments of acceptance, the jealousies of their peers and their relevance and worth in this playground we call pop. Snobbery has always been the sin against Abba, never taken seriously during their career always accused of taking the easy option most notably by their homeland. That said during the course of the guest interviewees on show I must admit to having a chuckle at the comment made by Pete Waterman who near in tears commented upon ‘the day before you came’ thus ‘they sell 100’s of millions of records and then lay this down as the last recording they make, I might as well go back to being a bloody janitor’ – from their darkest and most fractured final album ‘the visitor‘ – surely in need of a critical reappraisal – as to ‘the day before you came’ – the best thing they set to wax…..
Is it just me or is this some kind of cyclonic epic that seemingly takes up the baton left by propaganda c. ‘Dr Mabuse’ to forge a pact with Battles and in doing so gives birth to some head tripping stereophonic dark star amid whose Dadaist pulsars is woven a face melting trance toned motorik industrial Arabesque delight. Ah well it is just me then. This hulking slab of hypnotic psychotronics incidentally titled ‘tek’ comes courtesy of ManFlu and is dragged from their frankly essential ‘joys of life’ which as you read and listen we are composing persuasive missives in which to secure copies. Stunning in short.
Its apology time in the Sunday Experience sound shed wherein we hang our head in shamed embarrassment and as punishment have donned the hair shirt for the day. Many months ago Palace of Swords sent over a copy of an uber limited lathe cut release that found them sharing groove space with Starry Seas. Now without getting into to much detail said release got a tad overlooked due to such happenings as mislaid CD’s and temperamental turntables. Fast forward several months and said track – ’(we are) the new hyperboreans’ – has resurfaced brandishing a remodelled chassis courtesy of Joe Foster. In short a three minute moon walk through a mesmeric mosaic of kaleidoscopic swirl pop if you will imagining a cruise controlled warm digits translating demurring dream machine transmissions rescued from the black box of a returning hyper galactic mission piloted by La Dusseldorf, kraut kool for a retro space age pop generation.
This lot have apparently been the cause of much affectionate glances and praise in their Australian homeland with the favourable whispers and hullabaloo having now reached these shores. The Griswolds be their name, a pocket party pack numbering five in their ranks whose sunny side up four track EP ‘ heart of a lion’ is – we suspect – about to cause swoons aplenty amid the indie pop community – that is if lead out title track is anything to judge by – for its an audaciously acute and frantic slice of pulse racing excitable feel good effervescence radiating cheer that comes packing in its holiday holdall all manner of happy harmonies, sing-a-long ear candy and rousing pop perkiness all trimmed in calypso skiffle pop highlights. Out early June via wind up records. Phew.
Mentioned this one a little while back – its from get the blessing whose naim jazz released album ‘lope and antilope’ we really must nail before we get any older. ‘corniche’ now comes augmented by a killer animated video which I’m sure you’ll agree succinctly captures the mellowing tripping and smoky vibes emanating from within….still sounds out there by the way….
I don’t mind admitting that of late I’ve been haunted by the strangest of dreams, fracturing reruns of events told differently, blurring hints of perhaps happenings to come and just plain old surreal weird things that have raised me to waken states almost concerned to shut my eyes to rest again. Indeed, so what I hear you mutter, but then for years I concerned myself with the fact that I haven’t dreamt in years. I mention this because in some kind of eerie fashion ’fluttercage’ appears to be decoding my sleep state transmissions. Ethereal strangeness from that Bower chap (Wizards Tell Lies, Revenant Sea) here found siding up to April Larson to forge a sonic alliances as Isobel Ccircle ~. Ultra limited to just 40 CD copies (don’t look at me , even I’ve not got a copy) ‘flutter cage’ their (think I’m right in saying) debuting full length is set for release in a matter of day via the Exotic Pylon imprint (shape worship, hoofus, the lowland hundred, time attendant et al). as said previously ‘flutter cage’ could easily be a soundtrack to your (my) sleeping state, upon the fragile pendulum balance between life and death, the only place where you are truly alone, hooked up to your inner self and adrift and out of what passes for reality, the sensations scramble, its hard to get a grip or a footing as the senses struggle to pick up the receiving signals and transmissions as they dissipate, blur and shape shift anew. And so likewise with ’switch’ an 11 minute sonic dream cycle of just that, interweaving terra-forming aural configurations, sometimes celestial that hint the end of a long journey, others mired in threatening overtones between these polar opposites the slow turn eclipse and the skree rush of sun spot ruptures weave upon this opus a delicately unfurling sound sculpture that shifts between light and dark and the lulling and the harsh. ’the girl, displaced’ is in a word – angelic, the kind of celestial at peace with all you’d expect to greet you on the other side – an experience I hope not to encounter just yet, here steeled in an ice sculptured stillness, ethereal chorals harmonise in redeeming transcendental states of bliss though knowing Mr Bower there‘s probably a more sinister consequence afoot that we prefer not address. http://www.exoticpylonrecords.bandcamp.comalbum/fluttercage
To quote the great and much missed deadline dodger Douglas Adams – or more pertinently the ape descendant Arthur Dent from ‘hitchhikers’ fame ‘I feel like a military academy…..parts of me keep passing out’… is one way to describe exotic pylons other newbie release, the frankly warped and wonky Time Attendant. We’ve just hooked up to ‘ermine fever’ from the ‘bloodhounds’ set and suggest you do to especially if you’re a little – shall we say – predisposed to your sounds being a bit freaked. Time attendant is the secret alter ego of sonic chemical scrambler Paul Snowdon who date has sneaked out a handful of acclaimed releases all of which have passed distressingly beneath our radar one of which counts as being part of a Moon Wiring Club curated compilation. ‘bloodhounds’ his debut full length is due to drop in July on vinyl and download platforms – by way of a taster looms the aforementioned ‘ermine fever’ – a kind of Gong-ed out Orb dipping into the head tripping dispensary of Magic Mushroom Band, super psyched dub daubs decorated in lounge workouts with hints of Ghost Box visitations. May require a lie down in a quiet dark place after consuming. http://www.exoticpylonrecords.com/news
Have to admit that we’ve been more than a little taken by this off centred and flirty nugget since it dropped our way over the weekend, a bit like imagining how Cobra Killer would sound had they decided to be a little more playful and frisky. ‘blahblahrians’ is the debut full length from Erotic Market, essentially a French duo Marine and Lucas who in former lives where N’Relax who in a three year existence released two albums attracting affectionate acclaim. Now re-branded ’blahblahrians’ finds them coming from a strange place located on the outer regions on the great pop axis occupying a decidedly kooky space that appears at ease and fully fluent in birthing new pop hybrids from out of cross wired melodic mutations which all said probably won’t serve to be the strangest and most experimental thing you’ll hear all year though will win hands down by a clear margin the vote for the most playful. For what you have hear is a trip wiring smorgasbord, a musical magpie mosaic if you like picked and stirred up of a cocktail of crooked synth signatures, post punk electronics, wiry hip hop species, new wave artiness and tripping tropicalia trims which to these ears sounds like the kind of stuff that the Manimal imprint was kicking out with gusto c. 2009 and whose sonic bloodline can trace its direct descendants back to the Knife’s self titled debuting Rabid released outing (as clearly evidenced on the uber freaky ‘are u cool?) with its godmother / godfathers and various siblings being gathered from a family tree populated by such folk as lene lovich, the native hipsters (nailed by the skittish and fried ‘bitchy muses‘), au pairs (the free flowing and tripping soft soul smokiness of ’I want to be some booty’ being the prime example) and devo. ’retro retardo’ opens proceedings jabbing your stereo space with acute angular combinations swooned in mutant dub steps and old school technoid minimalism, from therein your hooked, snared and reeled in left jaw dropped awe as the duo freefall with impish seduction flipping wigs as they catch a hold on the true spirit of punkoid electronica. Somewhere else the booming dislocated motifs peppering the grooves of ’blah blah’ playfully paws and scratches at the tom tom club had that is the tom tom club been possessed of attitude and a wiring appreciation of detuned slacker tonalities while the wayward and woozy ’DDDDrunk’ manages to stumble and stagger its way into the kooky pop palace of princess Chelsea. All said we here are adoring of the mischievous ’it’s a breaking’ which reaches straight back into the whole late 70’s Delta 5 / Flying Lizards scene though here sultrily rephrased through the Cobra Killer viewfinder. File under lovably wonky, warped and deeply fried. Out via jarring effects.
This has literally just been dropped on me and I don’t mind admitting I’m at odds with it. Still I’m up to track 9 and I still haven’t tired of it so its doing something right. I refer to Froskull who used to be the Stephen Rockford Hammond Band – they’ve just or are about to release an album via groove stand compendium, in truth we ought to hate it but we kind of love it its like being visited upon by a whole load of guilty pleasures trying to knock your down, opening cut ‘a thousand years’ comes packing hulking retro riffs carbon dated from the early 70’s and sporting progian overtones thumbing lifts on the middle of road highway while suited up in Todd Rundgren cast offs, damn I’m having insane flashbacks featuring Brian May riffs, cheap trick harmonies and Chicago before they became a commercial concern with a side order of the Barclays the james and the harvests, well if its okay for Sweet Apple…….alas no sound links just yet and by the way I must have…..
Blimey is this not the sweetest thing to happen upon your ear space right this moment, this acutely frisky funky bomb comes courtesy of seven piece cool collective Electro Deluxe and goes by the name of ‘devil’. pulled from a recently released ’home’ set for the wrasse imprint this slick hop back in time shakes and parties to the kind of smoked soul funk ju-ju that has you imagining some hitherto unseen bad boogying Stevie Wonder cutting shapes to the grooves of the Panda Gang (nee BDI’s nee Lancashire Hustlers) – look out for the killer ending very Rick James. http://www.soundcloud.com/electrodeluxe/01-devil
I’m indebted to Rob over at the Geography Trip imprint for sending over white labels of the resource centre (mentioned a little later) and the Oh / Ex / Oh releases. These come in ultra limited pressings of 250 vinyl copies only – all arrive on heavy duty slabs of wax housed in an eye catching fold out thick card sleeving replete with added inserts such as postcards, sew on patches etc…. First up the mysterious Oh / Ex / Oh who from what we can gather hails from the Netherlands and delivers on ‘extant’ what the label succinctly describes as a ‘soundtrack to an alternative future, a future world where all that had existed before had been forgotten’. couldn’t phrase it better. ‘Extant’ should by rights be the staple diet of those admiring of all things from Vangelis to Wizards Tell Lies and everything between, it is the dark half that Jean Michel Jarre keeps locked deep down in his psych, within its sonic prism are viewed the fracturing shards of ambient, drone and kosmiche equipped in bleak elegance and harvested in a stilled wide screen reverence. As far as reference markers go perhaps the early aural appearance of BRONNT and Craig Padilla veer close into the detached environs populated by Oh / Ex / Oh, both salvage otherworldly visions through the application of sparsely detailed symphonia to craft out sonic scripts cradled in a cinematic aspect that serve equally as meditative mediums and dream wired tripping collages. To describe ‘extant’ is to think upon it as a space walking odyssey murmured in cosmic raptures, it makes its introductions with ‘Crepuscule’ a beautifully ghost like apparition positioned in the deep reaches of the universes vast voids upon an orbital platform tapping out lovelorn messages to the silent heavens. Takes a while to emerge from its orbital dark side but once it does ’burners’ radiates amid the soft after burn of vapour trailing shimmers. Steeled in a whisper toned sereneness there’s something beautifully brooding about ’the holy fallout’ as it accentuates a feeling of abject loneliness and detachment as though the slo-mo soundtrack of a lunar walk while ’STS-115’ refracts as were the end credits of Barry Gray’s score for UFO embellishing the eclipsing event with a hollowing heavenly hymnal framing leaving the monumental and tearfully isolationist ’the last days’ to murmur mournfully into the concealing dark voids. ‘close encounters’ opens side 2, a motorik powered hyper cruiser indelibly sculptured in golden age kraut lines fuelled on tangerine dream sonic solar panels earthed by Warm Digits wiring and engineered by Zombi. Things take a bleaker more fractured turn for ‘the resonator’ which at first glance is your scared witless behind the sofa eclipsing mass of dark drone overtures before it suddenly goes all twilight zone to manifest into some sci-fi b-movie Radiophonic nightmare. ‘distance (reprise)’ offers a moment of tranquillity, a softly set Satie in space suite which even despite its tearful murmur hints at the desolate darkness found scarring tube way army’s ’replicas’ leaving the advent of a new dawn to emerge on the transcendental ’(with nova) a new beginning’ which just leaves ’the third eye’ to sign out the set to glorious conclusion amid a Jarre-esque tide of celestial swathes.
Undeniably informed of early 80’s horror / sci-fi soundtracks most notably John Carpenter, there’s a noir trimmed tension and obsession with bleak futurist visions to come visiting the suspense stricken stark symphonies of Oh/Ex/Oh’s ’the house in the woods’, ’end titles (Lori’s theme)’ with its syncopating playful key dinking something macabre lurks beneath the tranquil lull, something just out of sight and straight out of the oblique picture worlds of Cronenberg’s ’videodrome’ and Carpenter’s ’they live’ while the darkly studded ambient apparitions of ‘dark moors’ seek to separate you and leave you in fearful detachment amid the dread quiet and the creeping unknown as it nears close drawn by the thundering beats of your anxious panicked heart
There’s also a further set – just released – entitled ’new horizon’ which we’ll endeavour to nab a copy of for future critical love.
First of all many thanks to the dudes over at Boring Machines for springing this out so fast to us – a vinyl copy no less pressed up on blue grey swirly wax which I must admit looks a treat coming adorned in an eye catching 70’s styled psychedelic sleeve. Of course we refer to La Piramide di Sangue who we mentioned in passing briefly a week or three ago when casting a casual ear on forthcoming outings prepped for release by Boring Machines. Oozed across seven mind bending suites ‘Sette’ is a deeply alluring exotically intense listening experience whose spirit is rooted in ancient middle eastern cultures and is brought into focus amid a hedonistic big bearded meeting of melodic minds whose heads stretch from disciples familiar in psych, prog Persian folk mysticism and jazz (as on the deliriously frantic and furiously sultry ju-ju pop bazaar that is ‘non e’ mia , e’ di dio’) to create an absolutely bonged out affair to which admirers of that ’turkish freakout’ compilation put out by Bouzouki Joe a few years back as well as the atmospheric dust riddled snake charms occasioned to turntables by the mighty master musicians of bukake should tune into at their earliest chance. In short what you get is old world ancient melodic mosaics rethreaded anew, opening cut ’baciati dall’acido’ starts out to swirls of head expanding trance motifs before going all freakish and flipped in an Acid Mothers returned from Tibetan retreat type way. ’Jetem’ is just punishing, a brutally gnarled slab of stoned out and mind lost Marrakesh blues wig flips translating old school pre Zep / Blue Cheer chord codas from archaeological ruins. Lightening the mood substantially, side one runs out to the blissed out haze adorned sun basked psych blues of the arabesque charger ‘Alperti alle sette’ replete with needle hot riff raptures. Snake charms, sonic freakouts and meditative head trips are the assorted ingredients making up the ‘reggio galassia’ full on psyched out feast applying along the way nods to kraut overlords Embryo while ‘esoterica porta palazzo’ arrives dinked in dissipating melodic mirages and all manner of hypnotic earth beat rhythmic presets to cast a sumptuously swarthy riddle of the sands symphony. All said the parting ‘La Guerra non finira’ is by far the sets centre of focus and the place where all the attending parts elsewhere converge to coalesce into an epic 8 minute sun scarred head trip and unto whose all encompassing tapestry elements of shade adorned psych, jazz, drone and mystical majesty swirl, swoon and shimmer with tripping transcendental third eye wooziness like some magical mistral piloted by the Grails. This headtrip is a co production happening between boring machines and sound of cobra.
There are times when a platter comes your way and from its initial opening sequences you just know its ripe for adoration not least because you’ve stopped in your tracks, forgotten what your doing and have been left momentarily jaw agape and transfixed. I will admit there are a fair few of such quality to get a mention shortly. That said none of them quite touch like this one. New from the Revolutionary Spirit. Its called ‘Sunshine’. frankly you need a copy. Why. Simply because this is 4 and a half minutes of untold bliss, from the opening opining apparitions of ‘Albatross’ codas ushers in the hushed and tranquil shy eyed three way union of the Butterflies of Love (a la ‘rob a bank’), crest (c. ‘68 comeback’) and anything you’d care to name by the Clientele all gathered channelling a soft psych vibe that sits somewhere between Cheval Sombre and Galaxie 500, which once your suitably entranced fractures and derails deliriously into radiating snowstorms of fuzzy feedback. Did we mention the Durutti afterglows and the ghostly spectre of those rare mellowing Marr sonic spectrals that used to pepper the quieter more reflective moments of the Smiths back catalogue such as ‘back to the old house’. a classic in waiting.
Nothing quite prepares you for ‘tree’
Out via the sound of salvation as a limited 7 inch and while I‘m here sticking my neck out lets just say that this is by our reckoning the single of the year so far.
Many thanks to Daisy Victoria who sent us a very nice note by way of an introduction, must admit makes a change from the usual ‘oi tosspot listen to this or else’ but then falls somewhat short of the days when the lovely eggs used to send homemade eggs sandwiches our way – I kid you not. Can’t win eh Daisy. Anyhow seems she’s been courted by (fabulous) Radio 1’s Huw Stephens to appear on the introducing stage at latitude having caused swooning fits via acclaim in the NME and Louder than War as well as being play listed by a certain Tom Robinson. And its easy to see why there’s been a quiet buzz attaching to Daisy for her debuting EP ’heart full of beef’ reveals a spectrum of style and sound that avoids easy pigeon holing, its something that pitches its camp – in case your looking for quick reference markers – not a million miles from Carina Round. Of course it’s the title track that’ll probably catch the lobes, detuning itself into the swamp blues agitant wastelands of Smith (as in Patti), Katastrophy Wife and Hole, this grizzled and fried slab of scowling primal boogie kicks with the same feral discordance that introduced PJ Harvey to night time Peel play lists in the early 90’s whilst still finding time to produce from the magic hat some acutely nifty ‘pilgrim’ era Pixies-esque rumbling. In terms of listening numbers it seems ’Macbeth to my lady’ is proving something of a fan favourite, easily the most radio friendly cut here emerging as it does from curiously shadowy post punk / gothian haze to unfurl seductively shedding its skin to reveal itself a tender toned soft psych dark wave beauty freefalling into territories once occupied by All about Eve and Gene Loves Jezebel. And so to the tempestuous kaleidoscopic psych noir of ‘cloth’ a ghostly love charm whose shadowy 60’s signatures magically swirl in a maddening Curved Air meets Jefferson temptation tenderly turned in John Barry motifs that together fleetingly encroach the kind of passionate psychosis of a youthful Ms Bush. How we adore the playfulness of ‘secret garden path’ – a Victoriana music hall magicalia rippled in Tarantino twangs and shuffling skiffle fired rockabilly rumbles. However all said nothing quite prepares you for ‘tree’ without doubt the sets best moment and oozing ethereal enchantment laced in fairy dust dappled psych folk and sepia mottles all ached with such sublime yearning beauty – without wanting to get to depressing I want this on funeral play list – simply arresting and almost certainly from a place not of this world. http://www.soundcloud.com/daisy-victoria
Video accompaniment for ‘heart full of beef’
Just between you, me and Dylan the house cat, we’ve always been of the opinion that Joy Formidable ‘whirring’ was one of the finest things to enter the great pop consciousness of the noughties. we mention this very loosely because we’ve just had the debuting release from Gospel shimmy its way into our ear space. A duo comprising of Chris Willshire and Beth Anderton – Allen who used to populate Joy Formidable tour buddies Creatures of Love &. Out via the usual download platforms early July ‘disasters running wild’ comes cradled in a hushed haloing of softly murmured crystal tipped crystalline spectral grandeur all demurred and glazed in an ice crushed statuesque framing that’s perfectly purred for late night listening arriving as it does in an atmospheric love noted cinematic casing whose slick production gives it the texture and wherewithal to suggest something curated by a pairing of everything but the girl and portishead loosely lassoed in the likeness of Fleetwood mac’s ‘tango in the night’.
Lurking on the horizon are two slabs of essential ear candy from those high priests at Cardinal Fuzz. First up a double twelve inch set from you’re smiling now but we’ll all turn into demons entitled ‘contact high’. this bad boy originally surfaced via function in 2009 and is now being given a long overdue vinyl pressing. In typical time honoured fashion we’ve opted to preview the set parting sub 14 minute freak storm that is ‘the plague’. previously unreleased – I think I’m right in saying – this is just one hulking sonic cauldron of stoner psych fuzz freakiness which believe you me I’ve tried it – has you entering into its head shrivelling domain clean shaved and sporting a chin so sharp you can cut steel sheets on only to by the end emerge with your faculties dishevelled and abandoned at the fourth turn of your descent to mind wiping oblivion sporting a beard of Biblical proportions, still the sounds are fried, cosmic and well – just out there in a flat lining drone siege mentality type way – strictly for those fully acclimatised in the sounds of Circle and heavy winged.
Second up the Oscillation – much admired around these here parts of whom whose ‘Cable Street Sessions’ set promises to up the wig flipping quotient by several notches and in the process send your realities turning inside out in kaleidoscopic shades of dream stoned weirdness, legal high ’corridor’ is awash in tripping out collages and interweaving freak thrilled radiating reverbs, may cause unnerving bouts of head expansion and momentary mind loss and comes adorned in a mirror board sleeve and features a Deviants cover. For both releases go to http://www.cful.bandcamp.com/music
Mentioned briefly in earlier despatches, we’ve now been united with a finished copy of Principe Valiente’s quite formidable ’choirs of blessed youth’ – a thunderous storm lashed gem of epic consequence to whose tender tear stained tumultuous tapestry hangs a dark waving emotionally crushed post punk dream pop odyssey. This is stunning stuff and sure to put these Swedish doomed shoe gazers firmly on the dream pop map and should appeal to those well versed in all things Church (not least on the haunting and hollowed cold and statuesque ‘the son I‘ll never be‘ which opens the set and the stirring tear stained ‘dying to feel alive‘ with its haloing of Will Sergeant sparsely woven arabesque riffmanship), Chameleons (in fact at worst its like a dream mix tape of the finest stratospheric song craft to emerge from the 80’s and beyond from a well kept and meticulously gathered together record collection whilst at best – well frankly something that’ll just blow you off your perch and keep attacking your defences time and time again until you acquiesce) and Dead Leaf Echo – the latter of whom whose indelible influence emerges on the rapturous pop kudo possessed chime shimmer of the Kitchen of Distinction‘s like ‘the fighting‘. Maybe referring to ’choirs of blessed youth’ as doomed infers bleakness, far from it for here is hope against adversity, agreed its turbulent, emotionally strained and bruising n’ crippled, yet for all that you sense through the struggle the subtle afterglow of redemption and renewal. All this is encapsulated in the glorious fall of the set with the emergence of ’flower in you’ – an epic and majestic synth laden hymnal whose application of the ethereal and the atmospheric is reigned of a tender and sweetly tortured tapestry that touches base all at once with Sigur Ros, Joy Division and the Church – its an utterly crushing event. Somewhere else the shadow lined euphoria loosening of its earth bound mooring within ’take me with you’ is an exercise in emotional impacting sinew snapping desperation which should you escape intact has ’she never returned’ hovering in the sides waiting to pick away at your senses remains wrapped in a mercurial head bowed bleak beauty that hints of the pristine pop chassis of A-Ha brought cowering to a surrendering and vulnerable impasse. ‘the dream’ is just pure undiluted chameleons c. ‘script of the bridge’ at their most divine, enigmatic and wounded replete with sky rupturing riff arpeggios all framed in a jaw dropped fading glamour that spirals with a gloriously distressed Skywave like solemnity while chasing in hot pursuit ‘wasted time’ freefalls into the shadowy inclines of Suede’s ‘dog man star’. And just when you begin to think you’ve got a grip on this the blighters only go and throw a curveball with the appearance of the briefly touching and reprise like spectral lunar odyssey ‘Choir of Blessed Youth’ before the porcelain love note ‘Fiction’ bathes your listening space in star swathed seductive raptures. As previously noted ‘temporary men’ is possessed of a swooning dark embrace that swims in the hallowed waters once frequented by a gathering of early career Sisters of Mercy and March Violets types all overseen by Gene Loves Jezebel. All said ‘choirs of blessed youth’ will suck you emotionally dry and may require counselling in the aftermath of its parting rest.
willowy caress of affectionate crushes this bright eyed bouquet of feel good tastiness comes traced in the subtle hushed effervescent rush of the clock strikes 13 daintily courting its grooves. http://www.soundcloud.com/aloemusic/shorts-berlin-1971-1
Now I’ll be honest when I say I’ve got no inkling, no fab information as to the whereabouts, fantastic happenings and other such insider social networking detailing that proper salaried with more time on their hands record listening writers pack out their reviews with before giving the briefest of attention to the actual track in question except to say that this arrived in our in box with a polite note asking us if we fancied a listen – or at words to that effect. Welfare Wednesday – great name by the way – may or may not – hail from Vancouver – that much we’ve been able to establish from the ’tags’ attaching to this quite affectionate track. It be called ’Salvation Army’ a playfully chuckling little cutie friskily alight in glitch garlands and the kind of shy eyed and hiccupping minimalist electronica that was once put out by the melodic imprint with much gusto in the days when minotaur shock regularly visited upon their waxen grooves albeit here all spirited away in a softly demurred cosmicalia floorshow dimpled in tripping funkoid afterglows. I’m suspecting this won’t the last time we hear from these cute dudes. http://www.soundcloud.comwlfare-wednesday/welfare-wednesday-salvation-army
Ingenious and slyly infectious, frankly one dose of this and your hooked, blighter ought to come with resistance jabs. We refer to the latest 5 track EP from Rainbow Reservoir who is essentially Oxford based resident Angela Space and friends who according to the notes last charmed listening spaces by way of 2012’s ‘love me’ EP which to much grinding of teeth and grimacing it appears we missed. Ms Space exists sound wise on the outer edges of the warping axis’ of the extended elephant 6 collective universe wherein it intersects the kooky spaces of the adored k records – her nearest reference marker is Kimya Dawson and it wouldn’t surprise us to hear she occupies a perfectly unreal world populated in an old time sepia lining of evergreen secret hideaways wherein the sun never goes out. As said new EP – ’400 imperfect rhymes’ due imminently is a breathlessly gorgeous cutie that opens with the title and proceeds to shuffle along lolloping and chuffing away in the kind of daydream dinking you only find in dusty books though here sumptuously glazed in an off centred pickled pastoral pageantry that one suspects she’s been sneaking peaks at the song craft sketching books of a certain Will Cullen Hart. Scarcely pausing for breath and along comes the ridiculously cutely kooky ’Siegfried! Oh Siegfried’ radiating feel good vibes as it chuffs and puffs to the playful parp of impatient trumpets. Fear not we’re not done yet for the ante just keeps getting clocked up with the arrival of the magically warping fairy tale fayre that is ’judith victorious’ whose childlike rhyme riddled recital chuckles surreally with an affectionate bite. Pride of the pack comes with the onset of the demurred silken sepia toned garland ’blue crab’ – a Satie shimmered lunar love note temptingly teased in a yearning though resolutely bruised bewitching afterglow. ’city bike’ rounds up the set in a skittishly adoring manner all playfully purred in a wonky weaving of prairie canters all dizzily doused in a majorette mosaic of furiously skipping rustic flurries. Adorable.
We’ve been flipping between this and the aforementioned Daisy Victoria release in recent days, both essentially emerging from the same dark place and both cowed in the kind of primitive blues that pricks our earlobes and makes us sit up barking at the moon. But enough of our domesticating house training issue. New thing from former King Alexander-er Laura Bryon who these days aided and abetted by the Islet’s Emma Daman Thomas on drum duties assumes the alter ego Tender Prey of whom who’ve recently put the finishing touch to an album ’Organ Calzone’ which is primed for release on the sadly missing in action (around here anyway) Bird / Finders Keepers imprint. Before that though there’s the small question of a download only three track EP entitled ’the tequila worm’ to get your lugs around. Now I don’t admitting that we’ve been more than a tad taken by the detuned and bent out of shape ’strong feelings’ which aside being the best thing here curiously wires into its melodic minimalist matrix a darkly woven psych underpin which in truth sounds not unlike a seriously wayward Slits channelling the darker undercurrents of the Soft Boys ‘underwater moonlight’. elsewhere lead out title track ‘the tequila worm’ is smoked in a howling n’ prowling Link-esque reverbs and weaves to a seductively chilling swampy garage grooving crafted in slickly supernatural charms. Lest we forget the parting ’hold me down’ as it snake winds amid a hypnotic psych folk framing occasionally bearing its blues gouged teeth whilst to these ears stalking a darkly enchanted twilight world inhabited by the Smoke Fairies and Kull. Essential in other words. http://www.tenderprey.bandcamp.com
With a title like ‘freakout’ how ever were we going to pass up on this. Discovered whilst wandering around band camp world, alas the physical 7 inch on green vinyl housed in handmade sleeves and put out by beyond beyond is beyond records is well sold out damn but still you can always nab it on download. Its by Worthless who hail from Brooklyn, their third release by all accounts with the promise of a full length pencilled in for swooned out happenings early next year. For now head tripping dreamy detours is what’s on offer with the woozily kaleidoscopic ’freakout’, all lysergic myriads, twinkling Velveteen apparitions and stoned out sunny west coast mirages which in truth sound like something that’s fallen from out of the 60’s flower pop love in through a temporal fissure. http://www.beyondbeyondisbeyondrecords.bandcamp.com/album/greener-grass
Mentioned this a little while back, new thing from former Dark Captain Light Captain man Dan Carney now operating under the guise Astronauts, this out on Monday and goes by the name ’Skydive’….
Do listening visions of mellowing mirages and down tempo dreaminess with just a smidgeon of Balearic cosmicalia about its wares appeal, if so your advised to start twiddling your radar dials in the general direction of Tythe’s uber chill tipped remix of Cholombian’s ‘saccharine’ which veers into aural orbit like some seductive and ethereal siren-esque serenade tripped out by a musical arm of the angel division primed with their own celestial wall of sound whilst holidaying from heaven or something to that effect. http://www.soundcloud.com/cholombian/saccharine-tythe-remix
‘you should be listening to this’ screamed the email header on a message sent by their press folk. Cheeky blighters we thought as we sharpened our critical nib in readiness to return same if their recommendation fell anywhere short of listenable. But damn this is cute we thought and barely 10 seconds into it and we are adoring it, ’cool’ comes culled from a forthcoming self titled EP by White Reaper for polyvinyl and smarts, shimmers and struts like an ultra dude Ramones ripping out teen dreamed fuzzy (well we were going to say ejaculations but as its pre watershed) raptures buzz bombed in surf scorched blister packing bubble pop. Nuff said. http://www.noisey.vice.com/blog/white-reaper-cool-premiere
Fancy some more acutely cute bubble grooved power pop, in truth you couldn’t do worse than checking out be like Pablo who per their press release are described as Scotland’s favourite geek rocking teachers which I’ll admit in some quarters might be enough cause to put you off. However ‘Julianne’ is a bit of an irresistible nugget coming plastered on to a double a sided platter through stray cat records shortly, yes yes yes it does sound like Weezer’s ‘buddy holly’ which last time I looked still wasn’t a capital offence albeit here their brand is sugar dipped in effervescent feel good keys swirls and infectious three chord rumbles replete with 50’s styled honey crusted ram-a-lama motifs and a kick ass sing-a-long chorus line. Need I say more. http://www.soundcloud.combelikepablo/julianne-radio-edit
A one time staple fixture of any self respecting post punk cassette play list (well it was on ours perched if I recall rightly between Clock DVA‘s ‘resistance‘ and ‘into the garden‘ by Artery), the Chills’ ’pink frost’ blended the austerely sparse detailing of say, the Cure’s ’a forest’ with the at the time subtle underground fascination for psychedelia a la the Soft Boys, both haunting and hollowed even to this day its still has that rare ability to relocate you right back in time to relive the experience you felt first time you heard it. We mention all this not because we are desperate to fill up the word count (we’re not) but because a new version of the track is shortly to appear on the flip side of a seven inch single (the a side being ‘molten gold’ – their first newly recorded material in over a decade) due out to coincide with European tour dates in July. The updated version of ‘pink frost’ is a mellower take this time of asking warmed of the originals fraught iciness but still retaining its bleak bite and darkly weaved kaleidoscopic framing to still sound beautifully unreal and in a class of its own. http://www.soundcloud.com/firerecords/the-chills-pink-frost-13
Now here’s something very special; mystery, magic and the macabre all softly woven into a 34 minute recital by the Melmoth_the_Wanderer here found adding secret aural alchemic potions to Hare and the Moon’s ‘there were faces in the hedgerow’. amid this archaic tapestry of dark age delights a dance of the damned unfurls, ghostly raptures pierce through creaking apertures forming between the what passes for known realities and unknown unrealities, Satanic rituals, supernatural séances and sacrificial ceremonies flicker in the half light casting a woozy bewitching spell charm that manifests dappled in monastic murmurs and floral flurries to blossom with subtle terror tension to reveal a Brit Horror bouquet of Hammer Horror cinematic disquiet bathed in a Dead Can Dance meets Broadcast dark hearted beauty. http://www.mixcloud.commelmoth_the_wanderer/there-were-faces-in-the-hedgerow
Can’t get enough of this, accidentally tripped across it after being sighted on a face book posting, an entrancing slice of horror phonic hauntology whose headspace is indelibly rooted in the neo futurist bleakness of a ‘terminator’ meets ‘blade runner’ glacial beauty all whirled as were upon a Radiophonic Workshop mirror ball and by our reckoning something that ought to seduce the listening worlds of those whose head phone preferences come dinked in the kind of sounds these days ushered out by the ghost box collective, the Duke St Workshop and the Eccentronic Research Council albeit here finitely weaved in a star twinkling oceanic lunar lightshow by Zombi. Its by concretism who is from what we can gather is Chris Sharp – the track is ’hospital’. http://www.soundcloud.com/concretism/the-hospital
And no sooner had we completed our brief preview of the wares on offer from Cardinal Fuzz shortly and the blighters go and sneak in this little nugget. This is strictly limited to just 150 vinyl copies and looks set to fly off the racks in a time margin expressed in nano fractions. A vinyl pressing of the 100 only long sold out ‘Mammatus Clouds’ by Kikagaku Moyo put out earlier this year on cassette by Sky Lantern (more about whom in a second) – anyhow no sound links just yet (but hold your horses just a wee while) but we’ve managed to root this out – this is ‘tree smoke’ a woozy slice of dream weaving flowery acid psych loveliness succulently stirred in meditative murmurs which mid way through flips on its side showered in myriads of stoned out beatnik bliss – quite possibly the finest thing we’ve heard around these here parts since those third eye awakening early demos from green milk from the planet orange.
And so to Sky Lantern, just a brief little mention mind while we try to nail releases, these dudes hail from Tuscan, Arizona and specialise in free form improv psych folk drone unto which they set to tape and release in criminally limited pressings (100 cassettes only). To date there have been four such releases the first up on the examining table being a collaboration between Peru’s Montibus Communitas and Argentina’s O+yn in the shape of ’offerings for the destroyer’ from which the 35 minute head trip ’prepare bhang at dawn’ is culled. Serious freaky stuff that sounds like a ghostly Tibetan free folk mirage of sunburned hand of the man weirdness, very tranced out with oodles of bowed sitars, penny whistles, tribal incantations and archaic throat chants which once all gathered together sounds not unlike Un Festin Sagital heading up those bonged out dudes Alphane Moon. http://www.skylanternrecords.bandcamp.com/album/offerings-for-the-destroyer
Next up Swede psych proggers centralstodet provide the labels second release in the guise of ’Solkurva, krok, en boj’ and it’s the title track that has been the blowing of minds around these here parts, a full on gruff and gouged beatnik blues nugget that sounds as though it fell out of early 70’s sky or at the very worst from off the cutting room floor of an old classic Old Grey Whistle Test take, something I suspect that’s well worth further investigation. http://www.skylanternrecords.bandcamp.com/album/solkurva-kr-k-en-b-j
Sheldon Siegel on the other hand may have just turned in the prize release of the quartet in the guise of ‘midden’. the collective, a three headed European free jazz improv beast craft a surreal sound buried deep in your in your nightmares that cross wires noir folk, earth beat, art rock, no wave with good old fashioned dollops of strangeness, at least that appears to be the case on the distressed and intricate freak show that is ‘BRDG’ – a full on Henry Cow and residents expedition task force sent forth to mine and map the out there innards of the pickled psyche of the Volcano the Bear hive mind. http://www.skylanternrecords.bandcamp.com/album/midden
And finally back to where we started with Kikagaku Moyo. ‘Mammatus Clouds’ is alas long sold out of its cassette variant but fear not as reported earlier for it should soon see the light on vinyl via cardinal fuzz. From that set we’ve been most taken by ‘never know’ – a 16 minute mind expanding odyssey dimpled in meditative mirages all flavoured in woozy tripped out oriental spices, truly bonged out and higher than you’ll ever hope to get, a bit like an astral carpet tripping slo-mo Spacemen 3 dropping in and out of reality floating aimlessly amid dissipating dronal dreamscapes of the Beatles ‘within you without you’ headspace – absolutely out there, fried and flying. http://www.skylanternrecords.bandcamp.com/album/mammatus-clouds
Nabbed this of forest punk’s blog site – its evil, its sleazy, its demonic and its alas not on our turntable doing bad things which kind of upsets me a little. New thing – we’re assuming – from Tobacco here aided and abetted – I think – by Notrabel (should have done all the handy research before I committed to typing), ‘streaker’ comes dragged off the ‘Ultima II massage’ full length, frankly the kind of insanely schizoid teeth wired punk electronica that we around here rarely get to hear these days and the kind of thing that imagines a mutant teeth gnashing fist clenching brutally fucked up futuristic sound clash between a seriously dark Barry 7 / Add N to X in a tag session with Locust and Atari Teenage Riot. We want, over and out. http://www.forestpunk.wordpress.com/2014/05/13/tobacco-ultima-ii-massage
We are kinda kicking ourselves for not nabbing one of these on a rare trip to probe records yesterday, I mean be honest how many compilations are you ever likely see whose track list has Pierre Henry and Pierre Schaeffer sitting alongside Robert Mitchum and features Ray Cathode and Lasry Baschet forming an unlikely listening soiree not to mention kick-starting the head phonic entertainment with a track by Bernard Cribbens whose label head honcho comments on said cut thus ‘how many tracks can you name that squeeze in the words ‘oxy acetylene welder’’. Not content with that the label then packs it off with a knowingly impish title ’funny old shit’ and just for the fun of it all adds to its attraction by throwing in the Jellies’ ’jive baby on a Saturday night’ – probably the cutest, friskiest and damn loveliest thing you’ll hear in such an age. Who else I wonder would have such audacity, such nerve and such an inspired wayward spirit but Trunk records, this nations most eclectic thrift shop raiders and preservers of outsider sounds whose defying of categorization is an art form in itself. Essential purchase of course. http://www.trunkrecords.com
The jellies ’jive baby on a Saturday night’
Bernard cribbins ‘gossip calypso’
Released at exactly 1 minute and 12 seconds past midnight today (there’s one for the pub pop quiz enthusiasts of the future)via Small Bear records, the latest opus from the nations favourites (well in our gaff at least) the Bordellos. I don’t mind saying there’s be a fair old amount of swooning and throwing aloft of bunting since this reared up on our radar, we’re holding on a full review for now while we expectantly await the landing of hard copies any day soon. A by all accounts handsomely packaged set which should you happen to subscribe to the CD version – and you should – arrives augmented by not one but two additional EP sets – the first being their debuting Small Bear set ‘bring me the head of Justin Bieber’ and an exclusive ‘extra smooth’ collection. The impishly entitled ‘will.i.am, you’re really nothing to me’ comprises nine tracks two of which we’ve previewed in earlier musings – the Doors-esque / Scott Walker like ‘moonface’ and the ultra cool strut coiled and damaged soul psych of ‘the gospel according to Julian Cope’. for now though our radars been set on frenzy with the appearance of the curiously dark and dishevelled slacker grooved ‘elastic band man’ – a prowling psychosis fractured post punk funky minimalist moocher wearily marauding the ear space to a tripping hypnotic disquiet that sits on the outer edges of the Beck and the Simple Kid axis and is only shoved out of the affection stakes by the parting title track whose smoked kaleidoscopic bliss kissed baggy grooving is a prime time serving of shit faced and out of it Stone Roses fuck you aloofness spiked by the chemical fusion of flowered up and happy Mondays essences. Another end of year winner, wouldn’t put it past it. http://www.thebordellossmallbear.bandcamp.com/album/will-I-am-youre-really-nothing
Now here’s a strange thing, an album featuring one core song rephrased, remodelled and rewired through a series of sonic stylising by an invited array of guest remixes. Third album from dream popping duo Ummagma should mark a new navigatory pathway for what on paper already seems like a busy year ahead immersed in remix / collaborative projects with the likes of Robin Guthrie, lights that change, sounds of sputnik, Graingerboy and more besides. Unusual by most standards, ’Lama’ isn’t so much your standard album but rather more a loosely associated concept set in that the continual theme running throughout is the cut ’Lama’ – what that doesn’t tell you however is that aside it forging alliances across the generic divides it hitherto reveals the ever widening spectrum of the Ummagma sound. The set opens with the original mix of ‘Lama’ a gorgeously smouldering softly unfurling indie gem stone purred to the spectral entwining of Musetta and Dubstar dialects and traced with the silken caress of cosmic baubles whose trajectory shifts mid way through into ROC territories wherein all is elevated to a wide screen aspect that sees the cool control of Shauna’s lost in the moment disco raptures sharply contrasting with the fracturing underpin of Alexander’s riff work. Sounds of Sputnik are the first to step up to the plate and service ’Lama’ in thunderous beat driven cosmic hyper drive dinked in shimmering reverbs and swooned in lovelorn signatures. Mind Movies take matters in a total different direction applying some nifty lunar funk footwork to the floorshow replete with Stereolab noodles before shape shifting into a sepia skinned spectral hymnal perfect for lights dimmed sophistication. First of two visits for A Copycat who retune things back to reset and wire to it a buzz sawing motorik underpin schooled in 80’s pop cinematics only to return later to remodel the remodel and spray it in affectionate lovelorn flurries. Theatre of Delays serve up one of the sets cornerstone moments stripping the original template bare and sprinkling it in a twinkling flotilla of fortdax charms that falls headlong into the seductive trip hop down tempo folds of the minimalist murmurs of the Alexander robotnik revamp. Softly arresting proceedings go nogo’s breaking the camel’s back edit dinks matters in the delightful canter of shuffling oriental motifs flashed through in Balearic afterglows while the irregular disco workers acid feel retuning pretty much dispenses with the script all together before remembering its remit and trip wiring a smidgeon of the mosaics into the mix before putting on their dancing shoes and getting off to get down in Studio 54 land only to return later still having forgotten the charge they’ve been put to task with and going all mirror ball discoid mind tripping and house-y on your ass.
This came via a seal of approval recommendation from Brian Bordello who happened across this audacious talent and thought it’d be up our street. Indeed and many thanks, a self titled set from Mexico based Daniel Jimenez who under the alter ego Ashtrays is described as a ’one man lo-fi / dream pop surf pop band’ and who across 8 sublime lo fi twangy love notes somewhat betrays his youthful 15 years into having you believe what your hearing is being crafted by a veteran run through the mill beneath the weight of several decades of emotional baggage. Amid these cuts the minimalist sparseness of ‘first time’ is the one that’s caught our ear first time of asking, sumptuously detached and etched with a primal post punk zeal , there’s an almost rock a hula classicism afoot here that’s steered by an Alan Vega like delivery all nailed upon an oblique threadbare synth the type of which you’ll find hard pressed to find outside a Magazine platter. ‘July 27th’ is cooled in a teasingly bruised lo-fi surf swing twee afterglow that sits somewhere the Another Sunny Day and Simon Joyner with its bitter sweet inflections. All said from our brief vantage point the darkly woven ‘her indifference’ incidentally the best thing
here is moored in the shadow lined psych noir of Liverpool’s second Mersey sound wave most notably Ellery Bop. Available as a free download no less. http://www.danieljimenezstuff.bandcamp.com
I’m thinking that you’ve never heard such an eerie a rephrasing of ‘Scarborough Fair’ as your ever going to encounter here, it catches you of guard emerging through the primordial fog of something shrouded in the kind of pensive and austere detailing rarely heard so decoded since the appearance on our turntables of Left Hand’s criminally overlooked ‘minus 8’ set from many years back. Detuned and damaged there’s a maudlin majesty about its wares that traces its way back to the Grails at the height of their powers augmented by a would be all star gathering of Constellation records talent with the addition of some ethereal Birkin-esque seduction. But then ‘billion sands’ is not your average album and neither its musicality tiresome or easily to peg to any definable generic box, and just when you are beginning – or should I say – think your getting on to its radar then the blighter about turns and heads in a differing direction causing you to take sock, change focus and repeat what by the end reveals itself to be a never ending looping cycle wherein you the listener are constantly tripping backwards off step and wrong footed. The debut album from Italo quartet Black Fluo is as the accompanying press release rightly notes expressed in electronic and classical dialects, an amorphous and admirable calling card that treads the spectral cracks of musical genres vaguely familiar (post rock, math, noire neo classicism and austere post punk) like some between dimension trekking spirit walker. Indelibly shadow lined ’billion sands’ is a richly deceptive set that rewards and reveals with repeat listen, here the purring ’Narcosia’ is, as you’d rightly imagine from a track titled thus, eked in trip wiring dream sequences and a sense of unreal surrealism which could easily be described as a shadow lined Lynchian half sister of the Orb’s ’lil fluffy clouds’ albeit ostensibly aglow in the withering solar activity of a dying star. The stilled and eerily disquieting ‘whisper’ with its minimalist cradling of meandering riffage and darkly set narrative manages to occupy the centre ground between the Artery and And Also the Tress on one side and Arab Strap on the other. Daubed in monochrome mosaics there’s the hollowing tensely wound grip of the melancholic mantra ‘death of a sun’ to contend with. Dimpled in crystalline riff cascades ’les vagues caleidoscopiques’ lightens the moods somewhat peppering the listening space with an acutely snaking blues phrased lulling post rockian tapestry that finds itself sitting somewhere between Floyd and a playfully soft psyched spectral Grails (again). With its ice chimes and neo classicist noir trimmings ’caledonia’ rounds up the set, distressed, dark and dour, it comes framed in the kind of primitive electronic apparitions you’d expect to hear on a Louis and Bebe Barron soundtrack or else something stirring from the depths of a release via the hibernate imprint. All said just edging ’Scarborough Fair’ as the sets stand out track is the opening ’la fin’ – a gorgeously woven slice of noir italia groove in the style of Barry, Mancini and Morricone and cut from the same tapestry of the ’Vendetta’ theme and summoned upon a ghostly palette that sounds like the handicraft of Set Fire to Flames as though remodelled by Joe Meek. The CD comes bound in a book available via the pulver und asche imprint.
Those among you with keen eyed spotters badges may well remember way back in the mists of time us going quite frankly – well how can I put this politely and to the point – ape shit – over this lot when they first emerged on our listening radar as mere psychedelic students peppering their my space site with early days demos and jams and all manner of kaleidoscopic voodoo, communications where established briefly there was promise of CD’s being sent, we waited, they never arrived, we continued to mention them because frankly they were the dogs bollocks as far as we were concerned and then nothing. In the intervening years these dudes have apparently been peppering the psych community with limited wax visitations -all of which I’m disappointed to report we’ve so far missed until that is now with the arrival courtesy of Dave over at Cardinal Fuzz of what’s described as an ultra limited oxblood coloured vinyl set (ours is very pink-y if truth be told but still nonetheless very eye catching). I refer of course to the Cult of Dom Keller who for their sins are well versed alchemists in the art of grizzled psyche blues, perhaps this nations finest purveyors, for their brand is not your jingoistic pedal effects chiming pop tweeness with pretended west coast stickers glued to its backside but something primal and primitive, something swamp dragged from psychedelia’s dark side, not so much songs but rather more mantras or lost hymns peeled from our deepest ancestral memories. ‘the second bardo’ be the name of their sonic scripture , upon its grooves sit nine spiked varieties of wired and weird stoner psych whose craft and alchemy can lay claim to a lysergic lineage that strays back to the likes of the 13th Floor Elevators. The set opens to the hulking ’plague of all’ tripwiring directly into the darkening vapour choked heart of a youthful Black Angels. And while your picking up your jaw from the floor along comes ‘the snake keeps changing’ – an almighty cosmic head-trip that manages amid its stoner looped bliss kissed fuzz flurries to out muscle the ever so perfect Mugstar – which I should add is a feat rarely if ever occasioned – while sporting a rugged deeply tranced out Spacemen 3 grooving. Bonged out and quite frankly just out there is the smoked out ‘dead seas’ doing bad Brian Jonestown Massacre ju-ju. Am I right in thinking two tracks brokered into one for the initial moments of ‘into the sky volcano – beyond burning skies’ is graced in arabesque dreaminess before being submerged in the kind of fuzzy strut licked big beardy shit faced lysergic blues growl only ever dared ventured to adorn vinyl by the likes of Kool-Aid (global tyranny). Over on side B (still gives me a buzz saying that and then having to get up wall over to the hi-fi and turn the platter over though not before a quick rub over the wax and a blow on the stylus to remove all traces of finite dust) lurk 5 more psychotropic voodoo charms with the demo version of the shamanic shakedown that is ‘Heavy and Dead’ leading out the charge sounding not unlike a skeletal subterranean and sexual snake charming Doors. ‘Godshaker’ frankly just has to be heard to be truly believed – a freakish mind expansive wasted acid blues babe that’s so gone you’d imagine it to be a less wired and strung out Gnod having traversed the beyond and returned from oblivion to tell the story. Those among you so loved and much missing your flying saucer attack salvos of yesteryear will do well to hook up your third eye fuzzed out hymnal ’ghost bones’ while ‘the second bardo’ finds tCoDM’ retracing their steps back to the same smoke layered vietcom wastelands as ventured on the opening ‘plague of all’ though here packed with a substantially more muscular space gouged armoury at their disposal (think Mountain meets Supersister). ‘Killed in my sleep’ rounds up matters, a day glo’d Love like nugget flashed through a kaleidoscopic viewfinder replete with shimmers and reverbs aplenty. Too cool for its own good.
Eyed this on the fabulous face book, alas only a clip but there’s enough psychedelically shimmered space shenanigans to suggest these star glazed dudes have enough kosmiche kudos to be your new fringe parting fancy, of course we’ve mentioned them in previous despatched to much joyful blessing following their split outing with pigs, pigs, pigs, pigs, pigs, pigs, pigs sometime last year. This set comes plastered onto limited editions cassettes – only 100 mind and features the entire recording from a recent appearance at Hebden Bridge last month, the event comes divvied up by the mixing together of recordings taken from three separate sources that night. The cassette artwork is by Jake Blanchard. http://www.soundcloud.com/wasistdas/the-cosmic-dead-live-at-the-trades-excerpt
Would you believe, we’ve lost the citation links to this which is a bit frustrating because we want one. First in a series of three cassette releases being put out triangle sounds attempting to replicate, demystify and add to your sum total knowledge of all sound things spore, shrooms and drone related (musically that is). Entitled ‘Unearthed Volume 1 – sporulate’ this ultra limited cassette features nine such aural trip treats, bearing no titles, no artists and no fanfare they are distinguished only by the puzzling ident ’cap side’ (of which there are 8 suites) and ’mud slide’ – all we know aside that is that there’s a loose connection to feathered cayote’s Ulrich Rois. As to the sounds themselves, a delightful peak as were beneath the minimalist electronica undergrowth employing the full spectrum of generic bending so that you get the impish bubble and squeak doodles of Louis and Bebe Barron on track 8 albeit here as though on safari on some alien vast land, ominous trip out dream states on track 2, mellowing lunar eclipse transmissions (track 1)and frequency noodling radiophonic weirdness (track 5). That said it’s the side long adventure undertaken on the ‘mud slide’ that provides the sets centrepiece exploring sounds vast un-chartered inner worlds in a kookified symphony of frequency manipulating manifestations that for the best part sound not unlike finding yourself eavesdropping on a chattering nursery class of excitable R2D2 offspring before that is matters take a darker detour and recalibrate into an as were battle plan headed up by some cosmic domination seeking Reptilian hive consciousness. http://www.soundcloud.com/trianglesounds/sets/unearthed-vol-1
Pre orders are by all accounts being taken as of now on a superbly packaged and eye catching set by Maps and Diagram through the hand stitched imprint. ’Alluvium’ appears in limited formats, the must have hand numbered 40 only 3 mini CD-r set which comes housed in a wiro bound hardback book replete with recycled card inserts or for the less adventurous among you the standard big CD limited to 50 copies all arriving in hand stitched manila sleeves – both variants include the three part ‘Alluvium’ aural odyssey the sounds within mirroring the lush finite detailing of the designing they come housed. Both ’hornblende’ and ’kohle’ are currently orbiting ear space having been sent out on reconnaissance, these murmured mosaics come delicately crafted and spirited like ghostly apparitions to softly glide upon a vapour trailed trajectory drifting amid the cosmic hinterlands shimmering in their wake a bruising introspective bitter sweet opine that hints solemnly of a solitude haunted by memories of what was and what might have been. Quite arresting though hitherto crushing if you ask me. http://www.handstitched.bandcamp.com/album/alluvium
a)You sure we’ve never featured Matt Bouvier in these pages?
a)But I‘m certain we‘ve covered something by him in the past?.
b)We haven’t. I’m sure.
a)But we’ve pretty much mentioned everyone else appearing on the Small Bear imprint have we not?.
b)Indeed. But not Matt.
b)Look are you going to carry on with these questions?
b)Only I’m trying to listen to the new release from Matt right now!
a)What do you mean you don’t know?
b)Some pillock keeps talking and asking questions.
a)Is that me?
b)If the cap fits.
a)Can I listen to?
(‘Just a word’ plays…..)
a) I like it, it has a certain distressed 80’s vibe about it.
a) minimalist melancholia
b) are you crying?
a) no I’ve accidentally poked myself in the eye while wiping away a tear
b) I do like this, love that spectral synth and the crestfallen delivery, very Hillfields, decoration – have you stopped blubbing yet?
a) feels like someone’s put the sun out, does he do parties?
(‘neverending story’ plays)
a) he’s happily unhappy isn’t he?
b) hmm, I see what you mean, it is kind of bleakly beautiful, love the mix of the guitars and the soft synths, very Tex La Home c. ‘dazzle me with transience’ – how about this instead…
a) is this the same record
a) same Matt bloke
a) oh this is cheerier, like a miniature Oldfield running wild on the moors
(‘my best friend’ plays in the background)
a) this I love, nothing like a bit of lolloping calypso-delic shoe shuffling shimmer pop
b) couldn’t put it better myself
a) will sell loads, like hundreds, thousands, millions – is out on CD?
b) yea but I think its on limited release – out via Small Bear records home of clara barker, nanaki, Veto (who we got a lovely handwritten note from a little while back – thank you, its been given pride of place on our wall of nice things) and the Bordellos..
a) I like the bordellos, they are wonderfully wired…….is that it then, I need lie down – oh yea where can I order that Matt Bouvier CD….?
Same label, different band, different record – Dog! Paper! Submarine! used to be talking to teapots (how did we miss them) and hail from the land of Abba and glacial pop, except for once they don’t sound like Aggy, Ben, Bjo or Anni and neither do they swoon you in rare essences of entrancing ice pop not unless you have a rare hearing disorder that translates and tempers things in such a way that you can fully understand and truly appreciate the flowing beauty of the love charms of the Nails or Carcass. Instead DPS for their sins channel the lo-fi melodically knocked out of shape spirit of guided by voices, their angular alt pop signatures come fried in cutely acute kaleidoscopic tones that suggest a collective admiration for the beatnik Filmstars not least is this exemplified better than on ’oxygen’ while elsewhere for all its huffing and puffing ’anglerfish’ skirts deliciously around the outer edges of the elephant 6 collective sound space like an embryonic sonic tryst forged between neutral milk hotel and Olivia tremor control. So in love with this we want one. http://www.dogpapersubmarinesmallbear.bandcamp.com/releases
As promised a little while that enchanting Resource Centre set for the Geography Trip imprint. Once again many thanks to the label for shipping out vinyl white labels, goes without saying that they’ve been adored and cared for since arriving here. Resource Centre is the post Magnetophone alter ego of John Hanson, already with two releases under his belt courtesy of the much missed and sadly at sleep First Fold records. The alluring 6 track spectral symphonic suite ‘low fantasy’ described by its author as attempting to replicate ‘that warm feeling you get on remembering your first school music concrete’ arrives pressed up on just 250 hand numbered vinyl copies, as with the aforementioned ‘Oh / Ex / Oh outing, sumptuously packaged in a thick carded fold out sleeve housing your heavy duty wax feast along with postcards, inserts and a geography trip sew on patch. Within a tenderly fragile aural fantasia crafted from the disciplined application of the counterpoint by way of clock working progressions utilised by the gathering of xylophones, glockenspiels, analogue keyboards and various wood block instrumentation which as noted previously ought by rights to be high on the radar of those entranced and attuned to the minimalist lullaby sounds of Scott, Plone and ISAN. Within, these little vintage odysseys lushly shimmered in sepia or more pertinently, star lit symphonies that chirp and chime with a shy eyed hypnotic yearn, lunar carousels playfully opining in the silence with the rustically charmed ‘the hour angle (the sun, it rises everywhere)’ arresting and lulling in equal measure whilst whittling out a delightfully dainty and enchanted forest dance. Continuing the wood crafted twilight toned imagery the ethereal ’high fantasy’ softly entrances to a bruising cortege of swooning reverse looped noir symphonics though it’s the simply adoring ’a million voices from nature’ that graces the collection with its centrepiece (though ‘round (music)’ might have something to say about that), a lilting lightshow of cantering key pitter patters turned and glazed into a doe eyed beguiling dream symphony. Those of you of a certain age, fondly remembering 70’s children’s TV – Bagpuss and other such like might be minded to visit the sleepy headed toy room magicalia of the serene orbital love note that is ’slow release energy’. however dare that we round up matters without mention for ’round (music)’ – a demurring ice frosted garland thawing into blossom amid the morning dew haze into a most captivating nature bound wake up collage of undulating bowed orbs and mesmeric skipping signatures. I dare you to resist. http://www.thegeographytrip.com
Several cassette releases about to break cover from Austria’s feathered coyote stable, all strictly limited in number and set to fly off the racks in eye blinking time. First up Divil’ a Bit – an Irish based collective who gathering massed ranks feature members of Woven Skull, Raising Holy Spark and United Bible Studies. Limited to just 60 copies ‘in deference to the squeamish’ is your darkly spell crafted slab of witching hour unfun emerging from an thick impenetrable fog, horror phonic recitals, medieval incantations and the kind of dark half folk drone manifestations you’d rightly expect to find lurking the outer grooves of a Reverb Worship collection, pagan ceremonials and archaic mayday hi-jinxing metered out in a storm impending choking claustrophobic tension at least that‘s what ‘along the ridge of the old huts’ summons up, something I suspect not for the feint of heart.
Now this is densely tense stuff. Again from Ireland, Galway to be precise, lurks Ruairi O’Baoighill – a dronal sound sculpturer. His latest bleak opus ‘the faceless one’ follows previous sets ‘-87’ and ‘Walpurgis’. again strictly limited pressing of 60 cassettes, as you’d imagine from the title alone this is pure behind the sofa viewing with the grim black ceremony ’invocation’ looming deadheaded and wretched in the kind of hope banished and light extinguished creeping dread solemnity brought to bear by apocalyptic groans and white noise recitals.
Happy to report that Creation VI’s outing is a lighter prospect. For those not previously acquainted, Creation VI is better known to kith n kin as Tim Six, a Ukrainian based sound artist here found sharing tape space with fellow aural alchemist and Chicago resident Kyle Landstra both here applying their own uniquely serene dream weaved cosmic fantasia. Creation VI is here serviced by ’sacred caves’ – a gorgeously cavernous slice of delicate ice sculpturing seductively twinkled in celestial garlands and peppered in trance toned mind melts, the kind of slo mo frozen in a moment melodic mirage that you’d more occasionally trip over on a Cheju release if I’m not very much mistaken. As to Mr Landstra – the aptly named ‘sunset on the event horizon’ really ought to be on the radar of those admirers the panoramic lunar odysseys of Craig Padilla, very Tangerine Dream in texture and easily best described as a hovering ball of cosmic light shimmering radiantly in the depths of the solar nothingness which as the title rightly hints emerges eclipse like towards the end forging an as were to a coalescing crescendo only to pass and disappear into the dark voids.
Next up a split tape pairing gathering on one side Endless Caverns and on t’other Outer Vertex. Outer Vertex feature a certain Eric Arn and Christoph Weikinger both better known to psychedelic purists as members of the frankly out there Primordial Undermind. ‘non synchronous protest of the eared-lamp people’ finds them in mellower moods from their usual stoner psych blues freak outs and deeply emerged in mind expanding mesmeric washes of dissipating dust dry vapour trailing blissfulness which not the first time in this preview finds a certain Roy Montgomery as their reference marker. Endless Cavern is the solo project of Matt LaJoie here showcased by the frankly awesome ‘Cryptocrystalline Part III’ which aside freefalling into the late 80’s New Zealand sonic scene – and here I’m thinking Roy Montgomery and Bruce Russell principally – appears to have carved out the spirit of John Fahey’s delta blues meditations into a smokily hazed bonged out head trip that’d make Loren Mezzacane Connors stop in his tracks to purr with admiration.
Last up for this feathered cayote soiree are least carpet with ‘back alley’. again this comes strictly limited to just 70 cassette copies, a deeply entrancing aural collage sound tracking its authors memories of a childhood spent living with their grandparents in Japan with the showcasing track ‘bustling’ mottled in archaic Oriental folk motifs softly building into a gorgeously breezy and somewhat tranced out carnival of sound richly rooted in rustic pageantry and ceremonial spiritualism.
All feathered cayote releases can be sampled, viewed and indeed ordered via http://www.featheredcayote.storenvy.com
Some serious post punk agitant pop from the excellently named Men Oh Pause who feature variously about their ranks members of leopard leg, the chap and king Alfred man of leisure and trip out the kind of skewed lo-fi ju-ju that the much missed filthy little angels and cherryade imprints used to kick out at alarming regularity several years back. This four track 7 inch EP incidentally titled ‘pulse check’ is being issued on limited slabs of wax by Brighton’s tuff enuff records – 250 mind so you better get your skates on. Clearly teetering on your slits, au pairs and delta 5 axis we must admit to being more than a little fond of opening cut ‘tight chest’ – a brooding and edgily gouged slab of mooching un-fun grizzled in hair prickling tension and paranoia of which whose stricken ice cold sparseness had us much recalling Left Hand’s ‘minus 8’ rather than Siouxsie’s ‘join hands’. likewise ‘scarf lady’ is dinked in a macabre flashing that suggests admirers of a youthful Fall frequent their number. elsewhere there’s the wonderfully frayed, fried and beaten about the edges minimalist fuzzy 60’s keys swirled kaleidoscopic creep pop of ‘concrete woman’ proving worthy of the entrance fee alone where it not for ‘sapphire and steel’ pushing it of its perch and sounding like something the 60’s dragged in and which in truth has the kind of darkly wired kool kudos that imagines a seriously out of it and fucked up Shangri La’s prowling amid the grooves. File under 60’s femme fuzz pop. http://www.riotsnotdiets.bandcamp.com/men-oh-pause-pulse-check-ep
I’m slightly mystified as to why we haven’t as yet featured Dutch art rockers Labasheeda in these pages thus far, having caught an earful of their wares via sound cloud – most notably the fraught and derailed damaged agit pop of the pulse racing ‘Cars’ (alas not a Numan cover) and the sun shining angular throb pop of the love noted ‘double exposure’ we’ve been furiously rummaging our record collection trying to reconnect with our stash of Seedling goodies not to mention releases once upon a time put out by the hugely missed transformed dreams imprint. That said this time of asking the band have opted for something a little more intimate and less wired with the arrival of a delightfully demurred 7 inch EP. an acoustic appraisal that features a rather touching cover hypnotic of Yoko Ono’s ‘listen, the snow is falling’ which had we heard way back when it was originally released (last December in fact) we’d have been dreamily cutting shapes around yuletide spruce and embraced of the season’s good cheer, still despite (or should that be in spite of) you can’t help surrendering yourself over to its hymnal hope charms which to these ears sound not unlike a frail wood crafted Delgados in chill out mode. That said it’s the utterly adorable ‘elastic’ that had us allured, a spring blossoming frost speckled lovely which (you’re going to think this is laziness now) sounds like a pristinely cut and at the height of their powers shyly sighing Delgados (again) dimpled in ice melting florals – really is irresistible. the EP comes courtesy of presto chango records and is limited to just 200 copies all pressed on snow white wax. http://www.soundcloud.com/info-288/listen-the-snow-is-falling
Those of you enchanted by that recent wyrd brew of hare and the moon by Melmoth the Wanderer will be happy to hear that HatM’s Grey Malkin has rummaged through his record archive to weave together a wonderfully wyrd summer solstice soiree for the latest Golden Apples of the Sun radio show among the peppering of hauntologist delights and celestial dreamscapes not least from Belbury Park / Eccentronic Research Council and Charles Vaughan respectively there’s the acid folk melodic mirages of ghost whose ‘dominoes / celebration for the grey days’ is an epic slice of Goblin prog goodness that has had us kicking ourselves for having missed earlier. Elsewhere the unmistakable tones of Ivor Cutler and the incredible string band warm the cockles while the Comus freak circus enters town on the back of the gypsy calypso ‘Diana’ while those of you whose dallying with the back catalogue of Julie Covington was rudely upended at ‘don’t cry for me Argentina’ ought to seek out ‘my silks and fine array’ whilst wrapping up matters the criminally under appreciated Legendary Pink Dots – the grown ups Pink Floyd go all psychedelic trip wired with ‘Damien’ – there’ll be Dots news aplenty shortly as we’ve just re-established communications with the helmet room dudes whose Randall Frazier of orbit service fame is busy working on a Dots side project with the working title ‘a star to far’ – more news when we get it.
Its always a refreshing thing to find a bands additional playing crew cited as providing ideas, food and er – taxidermy. Okay you’re right it is a bit strange, but then the island of Dr Lee are not quite your normal band. Hailing from Eau Claire, Wisconsin they describe themselves as an experimental hip hop noise rock swing combo which might seem a bit outlandish though not until you hear the grooves cooking within. Preaching no wave, alt funk, tropicalia and a curiously dishevelled variant of lounge, elements three and four of that cocktail coming courtesy of some deliciously scatty squirreling flutes, the island of Dr Lee have clearly got a Pere Ubu meets Swell Maps thing going on, okay it is buried deep in the mix, but its there all the same, albeit rephrased by a bullish Gary Wilson at least that’s what our ears are translating ’my bunny wants to thump you’ as. For us though best of the set is the smoking jacket that is ’maybe you otter’ that had us frothing – a killer crooning swoon shakedown blessed with the ramshackle koolified edginess of gallon drunk in face off with the Fatima mansions. Elsewhere those among you loving of your sounds sultrily caressed in noir torch a la Musetta might be mindful to check out the seductive ‘but I nearly knew her’ at your earliest convenience. http://www.theislandofdrlee.bandcamp.com/album/ep
Bit of a darling this one, new thing from TOPS out imminently on Arbutus entitled ‘change of heart’ promises to arrest your summer listening loveliness in all manner of cutely affectionate shy eyed willowyness. arrives tenderly dimpled in vintage visions of 70’s dinked disco halls and endless sultry nights basking beneath blood red skies to the purr of carnival-esque echoes the type of which once upon a time graced a debuting Go Team platter, add in a little heartbreak and an ever so deceptively alluring off centred funky motif and top coat the blighter with a pristine pop ear candy fluffiness and you have your self a summer soundtrack vying for affection with that jaw dropping killer revolutionary spirit seven inch.
If my memory serves me right, ’Zit’ may well be the first ever entry into these missives from Tampere, Finland – it also marks itself as being the debuting effects pedal effervescence from mumrunner a self described noisy shoe gaze punk combo among whose ranks are despatched various members of getaway cabs and revival hymns. ‘zit’ heads up this euphoria drenched calling card (‘Rut’ is its double A side co-conspirator) and comes swooned in the kind of dream hazes that were once the trademark sound of the Wilde Club imprint (see Catherine Wheel, the Bardots et al) albeit here etched and grounded in the kind of strut cool of Skywave and shimmered ever so subtly in the sonic aftertaste of Gene Loves Jezebel which be honest space cadets is no bad thing. ‘Rut’ all said does it for us, same ingredients as previously but here spiked and twisted in a more frenetic pulse pounding shock attack that to these ears sounds as though its prowling the kind of muddied psychedelic practised by a ’kaleidoscope’ era Boo Radleys.
Impish weirdos in horror phonic freaky fright folk shock. Tis okay you young folk for it not be those damaged pop misfits Windmill Mothglue but rather more something far more worrying. Ak’chamel who we mentioned a few months back have just dropped a whole load of disturbed dead echoed primitive pop courtesy of the admired centipede farm imprint. Limited to just 50 copies entering the domain of ‘fucking with spirits’ is to leave all notion of modernist realities behind on the un-welcoming mat for here is hazily choked a primordial disquiet of dark ceremonial incantations chanted in lost tongues all set to a threadbare gloomily macabre wyrd folk drone madrigal which aside making those Volcano the Bear chaps seem positively pop pap encircles a would be haunting séance enacted upon by the gathering of sand snowman and soriah types – at least that’s what our ears do detect on the forbidding ‘nightmare animals’ – not I suspect for the feint of heart. http://www.akchamel.bandcamp.com/album/fucking-with-spirits-2
Featured fondly with much swooning adoration in TftA #38 (that‘ll be ‘Tales from the Attic’ bright young things) wherein we where somewhat dreamed away upon twinkle toned celestial carousels on a demurred hazily glazed funkoid hyper craft, this is the freshly chipped video accompanying 555’s quite desirable ‘Som Hassell’ track taken from his celebrated ‘nine gates’ set or the esteemed Moon Glyph imprint – the video incidentally the handiwork of one Nnnic Wilson…..bliss out time….<p><a href=”http://vimeo.com/89064012″>555 – Som Hassel</a> from <a href=”http://vimeo.com/nnnnicwilson”>NNNIC WILSON</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a>.</p>
Inspired by spaghetti westerns says the blurb, I must say the promise had our ears a pricked though on closer inspection we’d be more inclined to suggest that Damien Olsen’s newly released 6 track ‘desert guitar’ set has more of a whiff of something informed and crafted after a little research reading and listening in the general direction of Harry Smith’s anthology of american folk music, for here amid the arid dry sun scorched desolation there’s a finger picking intimacy aglow in in heat glazed mirages caressed in the blissful sand bleached delta blues serenity that once opined between the grooves of platters by the sadly departed John Fahey and Jack Rose and whose spirit these days is carried forth by such alchemists as David A Jaycock. http://www.damienolsen.bandcamp.com/album/desert-guitar
More of that purring primal grooving that we around here so adore, this un about to shortly break cover via too pure on their celebrated singles club series. Pressed up on limited red 7 inch slabs of wax ‘crash’ by the hotly tipped heavy petting zoo oozes oblique cool and tortured tension in equal measure, here all shoehorned and cradled in the kind of fracturing shadow lined post punk edginess that suggests the ghost of Roland S Howard is perched ever watchful at its shoulder, add in the paranoiac panic attack vocals lash it to a spidery reverb rumble that nods to a three way gathering of Link, Shadowy Men and a Shadowy Planet and the flaming Stars types and nail it down to a noir twang framing gouged in a David Lynch styled darkly chilled velour and you have yourself a prowling nugget. Only wish the blighters would send a copy. http://www.soundcloud.com/too-pure-singles-club/heavy-petting-zoo-crash
The absolute dogs danders this, latest ultra limited outing from the Fuzz club finds psych blues lounge legend Alan Vega of Suicide fame paired up with Sonic Cathedral dudes the Vacant Lots. There’s only 400 of these babies – 300 on white 10 inch slabs of wax with a further 100 on an even rarer clear variant. Vega needs no introduction around these parts, Suicide literally laid the blueprints for the minimalist electro punk landscape emerging from a shadowy sonic space that even the Velvets dared not frequent, their craft forged upon a mutant blend of torch noir scarred subliminal paranoia and primitive dub trance induced rock n‘ roll edginess, in truth they cut a distant kinship with the Silver Apples albeit with Vega at the helm were readily more acutely gouged in a psychotropic primal undertow that crooned, prowled and strutted like some demonic bad twin of Elvis, Gene and Vince. ‘Nike Soldier’ is Vega at his best doing what Vega does best – crooning and yelping like a spaced out renegade blues preacher man across a deeply hypnotic psychotropic futuro mind probing mosaic, reference markers would suggest a close blood line formed with Automat whose recent full length featured an equally out there Genesis P Orridge doing his best Will Burroughs. Vacant Lots apply their wares to the flip grooves, an album imminent on the ever cool Sonic Cathedral to come, this is an alternative take of ’mad mary jones’ and finds them tripping ever deeper into Sonic Boom Spectrum worlds though here shimmered and skinned up in a nifty 60’s shone garage psych framing which to these ears sounds not unlike the grooves these days nailed down to platters by the equally ultra cool Lucid Dream. Kind of essential then. http://www.fuzzclubrecords.com
Mentioned this in passing a little while back when we wowed to ‘sloppy joe’s’, agit imps Vomitface return to the fray with another wired to the teeth slab of detuned dissent this time demolishing Kate Bush’s ‘sat in your lap’. this comes from that same puke green wax 7 inch as houses ’sloppy joe’s (133 copies only which to much gnashing of teeth we still ain’t got a copy of), ‘sat in your lap’ was always a firm favourite around these here parts finding Ms Bush in a wired frantic mode. Left in the hands of Vomitface they bring with them their fracturing angular alchemy and etch out upon its weary grooves the kind of fried and frayed battered about the edges schizoid shock treatment, in short if your looking for easy comparisons try thinking ‘Goo’ era Sonic Youth with Mudhoney c. ‘touch me I’m sick’ in a headlock – add to this a chaotic and ramshackle edginess choke it with a psychotic tug and a no wave waywardness that’s speared in a totally skewed almost f*** you slacker slant and you have yourself a delightfully caustic car crash of a cut. Essential in a word. http://www.soundcloud.com/vomitface/sat-in-your-lap-kate-bush-cover
And now for two electro heavyweights…..first up….
With an imminent short UK tour planned to open with an appearance at Ireland’s Body and Soul festival and buoyed by the critical response afforded to his recent ‘Splinter’ album, Gary Numan releases a new four track EP that gathers together both the original and demo mixes of ’I am dust’ along with a brace of remodels by roman remains and thenewno2 – the latter of which has been leaked upon sound cloud world. An uber cooled re-visioning of the ice cold bleak apocalyptic industrial landscapes embarked by Numan on his polished album mix, still stirred in shadowy environs though here finitely dipped and spirited away in the same vapour gauzed classicism that once upon a time elevated those gem like Andy Gray mixes into differing dimensions, bleached in a frost tipped sparseness thenewno2 mix comes kissed in a tripped out lazy eyed dub drilled celestial majesty all succulently smoked in ethereal essences oozing cold wave cool. Need I say more. http://www.soundcloud.com/garynumanofficial/I-am-dust-thenewno2-remix
Funded by a kickstarter campaign (one of those pledge music sorties), plans are afoot to release a multi media extravaganza featuring over three hours worth of unreleased recordings from the legend that is Boris Blank which will include all manner of variants most notably a must have three disc vinyl set entitled ‘electrified’. Blank should need no introductions, along with sparring partner Dieter Meier he forged a forward thinking alliance as Yello who together arguably shifted the cold futuristic tonalities of electronica into the dizzying warmth of dance and funk and in so doing shifted pop’s parameters several years closer towards the realms of techno and beyond. This luxurious set gathers together previously unreleased soundtrack work recorded as far back as 1977 to the present as well as ’rote fabrik’ a rare album from the 1977 – 83 archive which itself promises something of must hear treat giving insight to the creative seeds that would manifest on the duo’s landmark Ralph releases ’solid pleasure’ and ’claro que si’. for now though sample the delights of the lead track ’electrified’ – a time tripping visit back to the era of the big hair and shiny suits of 80’s cinematic culture, okay that might be a tad unfair, rather more trace tones of ’the race’ sewn seductively into an acutely cute futuristic noir funk groove that imagines a mechanoid retreat paradise melting beneath the sultry blanket of fire red skies. http://www.soundcloud.com/boris-blank-electrified/boris-blank-electrified
Prepped for an appearance at this years Glasters where they’ll appear as special guests on the BBC’s introducing stage, the adored Flights of Helios are set to mark the event with a new single ’Succubus’. concerning itself with underlying theme of isolation, ’Succubus’ finds the Helios ones reigning in their psychotropic nuances and instead opting for something subtly smoked and soaked in a smouldering stellar formation. traced in a tempting lunar lovelorn shell, this honey purrs with a sensitivity and wallowing caress previously unaccustomed on a Helios platter, its slow burn effect and wisp like panoramic vapour trails align with the likes of the Church and Sennen while at it finale it emerges burning from its inside to blossom and unravel into a seismic sonic supernova. Does it for us. http://www.soundcloud.com/flights-of-helios/succubus
The more curious among you will no doubt be fully aware that the Autumn parade of Fruits de Mer releases has been announced with what looks like being by all accounts an 8 x 7 inch box set featuring a gathering of black tempest, the gathering grey, the seventh ring of Saturn, the higher state, the bevis frond, chemistry set, king penguin and sendelica types – we’ve had a quick nose around noting that the higher state set will be a brace of 13th floor elevators covers – at least that’s the information they’ve so far leaked on their face book page. In addition that rogue Simones 7 inch is also set to join the release roster at the same time, this was the one that was pulled last minute from the summer selection. Further info from the FdM site at http://www.fruitsdemerrecords.com/discography.html
Our moods were buoyed somewhat by the news that morton valence are to shortly – well okay August time via Bastard recordings – release their third full length ’left’. in truth we almost feared the blighters had given up the ghost, instead it looks as though they might be turning in their finest to date if the three preview tracks we have are anything to judge by. Alas no sound links to share just yet, safe to say though they are all gems with crime being the albums underlying recurring theme. Upon first listening the seven minute mini epic ’the day I went to bed for ten years’ promises to the sets centrepiece and sees the Valence ones shimmering into the kind of stately environs once upon a time ventured by the Crimea on their faultless ’the secrets of the witching hour’ opus. The wistful ’old punks’ just oozes idling cool nodding along the way subtly to Paddy McAloon c. ‘Steve McQueen’ whilst taking out time to cleverly name check the Clash’s ’white man in hammersmith palais’ before charging out stage left to a thunderously punitive heads down hardcore hammering. All said by our reckoning ’in Germany before the war’ is primed to break hearts and summon tears, amid the ghostly pastorals a touching and dare we say harrowing re-reading of the Randy Newman cut portraying matters from the perspective of a murderer (in the songs case the serial killer Peter Kurten).
We suggest you don head cans for this and crank up the volume to fever pitch, that way you get to immerse yourself in the thickening dystopian haze oozing from this chilling bad boy. Imminent on kalma, this is ’darkness’ by moondust pulled from their / his / her set which we assume is called ’third eye open’. a stilled and stark slab of hulking shadowy trance funk noir draped in deathly white shimmering reverbs which had we not known any better would have hazarded a guess it’d had been the handiwork of a My Bloody Valentine dark twin colluding with a youthful Bronnt sculpturing horror phonic homage’s to John Carpenter. http://www.soundcloud.com/kalmarecords/darkness-kalma-records
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As ever take care of yourselves…..xx
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