Tales from the Attic
Volume XL1V
‘Revolutions of a 45 and 33 kind….’
Hope this finds you all well and that you are all suitably refreshed and stuffed with all the recent seasonal festivities…..here with the long promised excruciatingly delayed tales from the attic which over the course of the next few hours you’ll find six instalments which will culminate on New Year’s Eve with a special 50th edition….
We recently celebrated our 1700th posting on our word press site, a review of the plastics rather spiffing ‘all I really want’ was the culprit in case you are taking notes, it was a momentous occasion in which we patted our backs, exchanged hi fives and did a little rousing jig which must have looked a little distressing to the casual onlooker given that it was only me here, such frivolities continued afoot for a short while longer until we knuckled down to cobble up words of loose sense from our own unique take on the Queen’s English that would form the 1701st entry – for those note takers still about – that’ll be the Sylvie Simmons cut ‘you are in my arms’ from her crucially essential debut full length ‘Sylvie’ via light in the attic.
The legendary end of year playlist pantomime featuring…….
Claudia brucken, bell gardens, Vashti bunyan, Klaus morlock, chirping, vomitface, brian john Mitchell, bill horist, unseen, gulp, graveyard tapes, teardrop factory, la hell gang, beezewax, tetherball, samaris, gods little eskimo, the hare and the moon, mark and the clouds, Julie byrne, great electric, duke st workshop, kaukasus, Letitia sadier, lost girls, seaside caves, revbjelde, qrd, jon atwood, sendelica, plumerai, azalea snail, alan sparhawk, adam leonard, dustin wong, takako minekawa, cloud life, rev rev rev, pretty boy aloe, sky picnic, the blue giant zeta puppies, papernut Cambridge, holograma, ilk, edj, autumn stone, espectrostatic, sunchymes, montibus communitas, kuhls, lyttleton, ill, art of burning water, sloth, blown out
Okay yes we admit we are a little late coming to the party with this, I wouldn’t be too surprised to find that you were so familiar with it that you’re probably fed up to the back teeth hearing it and have since moved on to pastures anew. New thing from former Propaganda / Act-er Claudia Brucken. This ‘un comes peeled from her imminent ‘where else’ full length for cherry red records entitled ‘nevermind’ which in truth at worst doesn’t hit you between the eyes and have you falling of your listening pedestal though at best prefers to lay little earworms in your psych to slowly form, grow and hatch into something of a slow burner- admittedly a little too mainstream for our tasting but still plied with enough clever tweaking of countrified sighs softly twisted upon a subtly cool sophisticat studio 54 styled disco funk twang going on to have you sneakily feeling around for the repeat button – references should you need them – think Fleetwood fronted by a subdued Agnetha and Anni-Frid from Abba. Rumour has it the album features a cover of Nick Drake’s ‘day is done’ which I suspect might be worth the entrance fee alone.
Essentially a twinning of furry things and stars of the lid types, bell gardens are shortly to release their second opus ‘slow dawns for lost conclusions’ for the adored rocket girl imprint with ‘take us away’ being given heralding duties to mark its arrival. What can we say – just sheer blissful joy, opens Donovan-ish a la ‘hurdy gurdy man’ before unfurling delicately amid tearful cascades of lip biting hymnal symphonic spirals that succulently bathe listening spaces in the immense caress of sighing seafaring overtures- those preferring reference markers ought to look no further than the hushed grandeur of soft hearted scientists for comparable classicism – alas no sound links as yet.
Haunting and mysterious, Vashti Bunyan still after all these years sounds unreal and unworldly as though she’s communicating from behind a veil that acts as an aperture or gateway between mythical twilight worlds and what passes for reality. Incoming via fat cat a new album ‘heartleap’ is shortly to swoon and seduce the more discerning listening community for now ‘holy smoke’ serves as a brief entrée to the main course. A sleepy headed apparition of spell crafted wood carved folk fancifulness caressed in ghostly rustics all forged – one suspects – symbiotically to nature itself and threaded through by the yearn of delicately hushed whispers and the frosty tingle of a clock working lullaby serenade. https://soundcloud.com/fatcatrecords/vashti-bunyan-holy-smoke
I’ll be truthful twice in saying that we ripped this off a posting found lurking of Klaus Morlock’s face book page and that secondly we’ve absolutely no idea as to where it’s from, anything about the artist and whatever else to accompany this brief musical montage – honesty is such a refreshing thing don’t you find for politicians we are not. It’s by – we think – Les Baxter and not the fictional Eastenders doctor Harold Legge as mentioned in the title (‘Harold Legge – encounter at foxwood’) which on closer rooting appears to have been recorded back in 1974. Now is this the same Les Baxter responsible for composing a wealth of film scores throughout the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s whose musical appreciation appeared to follow a similar though more defined pathway to that of Raymond Scott initially composing big band orchestrations before refining and tuning his craft to move into exotica and jazz and later into the realms of b-movies (Dunwich Horror, Corman, Poe) and whose earliest forays into music saw he teaming up with a very youthful David Crosby (according to a Wiki link). Whatever the case ‘Harold Legge – encounter at foxwood’ ought to tick the boxes of those among you so admiring of the pioneering work of Louis and Bebe Barron whilst not forgetting those that subscribed to that excellent ‘optiganally yours’ collection a few years back, for both sinister and serene this orbital serenade is traced in sweet isolation all cast in a spectral and frail framing that hovers and shimmers ghost like as though some celestial call from the beyond which for the best part swirls hypnotically until its finale wherein all is eclipsed by a more dreading and sombre tone not unlike it has be said Barry Gray’s closing signatures to Anderson’s UFO. https://soundcloud.com/les_baxter/harold-legg-encounter-at-foxwood
You can’t help being swept along by the radiant euphoria literally bleeding from out of this bathing all in its path in a lushly spruced feel good effervescence, an absolute head kick of jubilance that sounds like the rush of some unseen cavalry heading over the hill on a rescue mission, epically drilled, vibrant and straight up close and personal – any questions – oh and its by Chirping who hail from Sweden and it goes by the title ‘ambitions’. https://soundcloud.com/chirping/ambitions
A period of relative quiet and our favourite label Static Caravan finally break cover with three quite irresistible releases…..
First up a twinset from Julie Byrne that pairs together ‘melting grid’ and a new rephrasing of ‘emeralds’ here fashioned as the ‘portals version’. Limited to just 300 copies all adorned on pink wax the press release compares the spirit, style and softly spectral seasoning of Byrne’s craft akin to that of Perhacs, Dalton and Bunyan – a good call and not the mere marketing bluster that usually accompanies missives from press houses oft erroneously saddling their protégés with comparisons doomed to give rise to hilarity and critical kill for here there’s no denying that the spectre of Karen Dalton is perched on Byrne’s shoulder inspiring the needle picked intricacy of ‘emeralds’. Alluring, intimate and softly mesmerising, the delta folk detailing comes couched in a transfixing rustic yarn traced by an archaic tongue informed by the old ways of song craft not to say finitely showered in a shy eyed remote warmth that treads gently in the footsteps of Nick Drake. For its part ‘melting grid’ comes kissed in a dreamily demurred resonance that oozes romance as it undulates and delicately weaves amid a woozy pastoral tapestry that’s seductively trimmed in airy peppering of subtle mountain folk gospel auras. http://www.staticcaravan.org
Next up from Static Caravan the Great Electric who we mentioned in passing a little while back. This lot feature members of Hefner, J Xaverre, mum and dad and GoKart Mozart amid their 5 strong ranks – a supergroup of sorts then who on EP1 appear to be on an exploratory mission turning old kosmiche ways anew blending space age pop salvos and progian psalms into hulking slabs of trip-a-delic headphonic hallucinogenia. Of course stoner space heads and progged out purists may be minded to fast track through the four track EP to unearth the parting ‘M.O.P.E.’ – a hulking big bearded beatnik of a cut aboard a cosmic hyper glider in stasis mode and cruise controlling the astral voids mellowed by the emitting of sultry stoned out sonic serenades of woozy mind expanding Floydian fry ups which once suitable satisfied that they’ve sedated your mind’s eye then up the ante to go all gruff and grizzled to cut hairy primordial shapes in the image of a Mugstar meets Mountain exchange of admiring glances .’music and colour’ once upon mentioned here previously still rears and kicks with it’s cool cosmic kudos intact like some interstellar happening as viewed through a 70’s kaleidoscopic viewfinder wherein on some far flung galactic outpost an intrepid cosmic sortie of Slipstream, Alphastone and Fly types are cobbling interstellar greeting calls from out of butchered La Dusseldorf platters – Warm Digits sit up and pay attention. Set opener ‘matter of time’ in truth could have easily fallen off the edges of Quickspace’s curtain calling ‘death of quickspace’ – all said though its ‘jump over the house’ that should by rights attract the radio attention and the admiration of those less so turned on by motoric murmurs. Primed with the kind of pop savvy that imagines – what I was first going to say – an effervescently radiant ‘beat the clock’ era Sparks in cahoots with Air albeit with the latter fitted with a V12 turbo time travelling back to the 70’s- but after much nagging and record searching shapes up to veer into orbits tracking the corn dollies ‘nothing of you’ and with it cutting a rather dandy floor frothing psychedelic popsicle from out of bastardised Marr mirages and sunny seaside specials(look I’m sticking with this bit because there’s definitely a retro vibe / mutant ‘the hustle’ vibe going on) into a toe chattering beat beefed beauty. An album is in the workings featuring Shrag’s Helen King – this one though on limited slab of 12 inch wax – 300 I believe.
Last up from Static Caravan comes from the much admired Duke St. Workshop. We haven’t seen finished copies yet ours appears to be a specially packaged promo housed in a DVD case inside of which all manner of inserts are tucked such as floor plan acetates, maps, polaroid photographs and a sticker – very eye catching. ‘Cabin 28’ is Duke St. Workshop’s second album following last years highly regarded ‘lexicon of paragon pines’ and that quite dandy ‘hospital’ 7 inch released earlier this year (oh and that ridiculously ultra limited ‘alpha / beta / gamma’ CD released to celebrate RSD14). To give you a flavour of ‘Cabin 28’ is to draw from the press release the following ‘a cold case from 1981…a remote rural setting…the keddie resort…soundtracking the case from dawn to midnight and beyond….the mood of the case the narrative dwelling not on the macabre but on family, love, loss and hope’. Cryptic. Nine tracks clocking in at just shy of the 26 minute mark, Duke St. Workshop appear to occupy an aural outpost that sits awkwardly refusing obvious categorization, one minute tweaking kosmiche corridors (exemplified here to perfection by the Karl Bartos hatchling ‘night draws in’), sometimes as is their want frequenting ghost walks along hauntologists sights at other times crafting strange sonic manifestations the imagery of which sits coded and in hibernation deep in the minds of children of the late 60’s and early 70’s. ‘Cabin 28’ sits and feels like a photograph album, each moment a recording for posterity a fleeting experience, each different yet uniquely bonded to its viewer – more so a field journal occasioned by moments of pure pop clarity such as that of the sweetly harvested title track that sits at its heart whose milky mirages and dreamy folk elopement traces its lineage back to a youthful ‘shorley wall’ era Ooberman. Distant brethren of Wizards Tell Lies (a long overdue mention for them is imminent) their world one suspects is pre-occupied by the mysteries of pylons and number stations and with the apocryphal writing of JG Ballard read to the soundtrack of Tristram Cary (as characterised albeit briefly on ‘hitch hikers on HWY 70’). Here you’ll encounter the cantering pastoral beauty of the Budd-esque minimalism that is ‘Sue and the Kids’ serenely swimming into the sun lit distance crookedly sitting aside the penetrating darkly hypnotic glare of the noir cradled Goblin like sparseness that fleets ghost like through ‘Spanish Oaks’. Elsewhere ‘April 11th’ is pure Wurlitzer Jukebox flashbacks to a time in the mid 90’s Birmingham scene taking in a snapshot of such lost ensembles as Broadcast, Pram, Plone and L’Augmentation. As you’d rightly expect of a track titled ‘midnight’ it appears apparition like couched in fracturing disturbia, a nightmarish trip of tribal voodoo visitations and disorientating oddness brought to bear by freaky flutes and an obsession with soundtracks from 70’s styled east European children’s animation. Strange though curiously rewarding, DSW are the white noise crackle when the white dot fades from the TV. They are the shadow forming just out of eye shot. They are essential listening – but then if you miss out this time, hang around about 15 years or so and ‘Cabin 28’ will no doubt appear on Trunk records – yeah that good. www.staticcaravan.org
Emerging from his Autumnal Ghost activities and recently acclaimed appearances as part of Kaukasus, Rhys Marsh is shortly to release his debut solo full length ‘Sentiment’ at the fall of November – a spectacle that will be preceded by the release of two singles, the first of which ‘the seventh face’ we are very honoured and humbled to premiere here. Rhys Marsh has long been long admired around these parts since appearing on our radar as a member of Mandala many years ago, blessed with a rare mercurial touch in terms of song craft, he last year admirably acquitted himself with some aplomb perilously pitting himself the task of releasing a covers EP (‘suspended in weightless wind’) consisting of five re-treatments covering a mammoth spectrum of sound and style that on paper appeared fool hardy at the least, a set exquisitely and indelibly traced in Marsh’s own persona and whose high water mark was an eloquent re-reading of Drake’s ‘things behind the sun’. for ‘the seventh face’ a darker more shadow lined approach is taken, its ghostly pang threaded in suspense is stirred in a fracturing isolationist disturbia and prowling psychosis, Marc Almond and Scott Walker are your guides wading through the overhanging psych folk thickets where lurk haunting sonic apparitions drawn from the psyches of Nick Nicely and Paul Roland, across pulsar beats, descending chord motifs and chime chill spiral carousel like crafting a curiously hollowing progian overture dimpled in monastic chorals all etched with the macabre trimming of 60’s styled Grainger meets Astley gothian macabre.
Ooh what’s this then, this is gorgeous, is it considered a tad odd to want to kiss a record, er hang on why has the listening space miraculously gone all bright, chirpy and flourescent, hey what’s the sun doing in here, who let rabbits in and alright whose are little fat dudes with wings firing arrows at me. Last time out it was getting all mathematical, philosophical and very, very heavy and deep as though a creative autumn had arrived and was digging in for a long spell with only the occasional thaw of an appearance on a Benjamin Schoos release to cheer the soul, but then Ms Sadier is blessed with the kind voice that where she to read the telephone directory set to a badly played casio we’d still purr with affection. With her new album ‘something shines’ for Drag City just released (alas that’s something I fear we missed out on) a new video for the track ‘release from the centre of your heart’ has just been unveiled. I’ll be honest in saying that unless you can point me in alternative directions that I’ve never heard Ms Sadier so loose, joyous, carefree and flying – almost as though some hidden weight has been lifted. ‘release from the centre of your heart’ is you might suspect the point to where ‘dots and loops’ was hinting, fluffy, free flowing, lushly adorned, playful and fluffy – oh yes you are reading right, a radiant sun shimmered tropicalia carousel of Bacharach-ian dreaminess albeit with both Lalo Schifrin and Van Dyke Parks re-tweaking the score and all at once sultry, sensual and slinky. Fill your boots for pop perfection like this rarely comes knocking often.
Still sends electric shocks down the spine. First gave this the heads up earlier this year when it emerged on an ultra-limited 133 only 7 inch slab of puke green wax, several months on and sore thumbs Vomitface have nailed down a video for ‘sloppy joe’s’ which we are honoured in premiering – a seismic slice of festering slacker grind that still to these ears sounds like the bastard offspring of a ‘sliver’ era Nirvana meets ‘dust cake boy’ vibing Babes in Toyland late night studio bunk up, coolly psychotic and prone to speaker pummelling riff ruptures as it sadistically stirs you out whilst gouging a swamp dragged swagger across the grooves.
Sounding like some bright eyed sun shiny sortie cutting itself loose from a 60’s Californian scene to embark on a wide open road trip to pastures anew all trimmed in subtle countrified opines radiantly showered by crystalline jangles and honey crusted boy / girl harmonies. You’d be rightly forgiven for thinking this was the handiwork of some current band of hotly tipped riff slingers. Not so. Left to gather dust, unloved and near forgotten in the vaults, this was initially prepped for release back at the tail end of the 90’s but was withdrawn at the last minute. Until now that is. ‘hold me down’ comes courtesy of Lost Girls- a collaborative meeting of minds between Creation / 4AD artist Heidi Berry and Kitchens of Distinction’s Patrick Fitzgerald which finds both artists stepping outside of their familiar comfort zones – the self titled album dusted and cleaned will appear via 3 loop music as an expanded 2 disc set shortly to include the original aborted album with additional material sourced from demos and sessions – certainly something that should prove of interest to Throwing Muses and Kristen Hersh admirers though why oh why do I keep hearing the subtle undertow of the Monkees as rephrased by REM careering through this nugget.
Typically hapless on our part we’ve managed to mislay the note we received pointing us in the direction of this gem of a release, though if memory serves me right I’m fairly certain that these dudes are either mates or tour buddies of the Wreaths. Confusion aside Seaside Caves are a three piece hailing from New Jersey who’ve just released a self-titled 5 track EP which those of you of a shade adorning persuasion with a fondness for darkly woven seismic epic anthems ought to be plugging into fairly sharpish. In short best thing we’ve heard tripping out of that neck of the woods since the werewolves dropped ‘pill box’. Opening cut ‘les’ trimmed in all manner of early brooding 80’s grandeur with its hulking swathes of ‘movement’ era New Order minimalism is shimmered in Velveteen classicism. ‘tonight’ – incidentally the best thing here is glacially cloaked in a widescreen aspect which if we didn’t any better would have guessed it being the handiwork of tenderly spectral Zerra 1 studio swooning with the Wild Swans with the Church at the mixing desk. Adding a touch of lightness to proceedings ‘silent signal’ the EP’s pop purring sore thumb might have easily been dragged from OMD’s debut had the trio a time machine and an impish want to change history while ‘party’ by rights receiving oodles of radio attention being the most immediate thing here hints at a fondness for the Chameleons given its purred with the same hulking wall of crystalline sound. Typical of these things our preferred and favoured cut is the parting ‘vision’ – up there with the Bordellos’ ‘temperature drop’ and very much free flowing on an axis shared by Bowie’s ‘heroes’ though here melted by the hazily glazed trip wiring of a sublimely mellowing soft psych hush that smokes with the kind of cool mastery you only ever find on Mercury Rev platters and with that ridiculously essential and quite perfect with it. http://seasidecaves.bandcamp.com/album/seaside-caves
We meant to feature this ages ago, it was primed for a missive now lost in the infamous blue screen of death debacle, we feared we’d lost it, we feared far worse that we’d forgotten about it. Happened upon this gem whilst rummaging around bandcamp. Revbjelde are a Berkshire based collective headed up by Alan Gubby a Reading based producer and audio archivist with a thing for radiophonics whose recorded stuff for such notable labels as leaf, trunk and tru thoughts in the past. Latest outing is a four track EP entitled ‘the weeping tree’ via Buried Treasure – an imprint dedicated to the unearthing of all manner of radiophonic curios, library electronics and lost archaic sounding recordings falling outside the usual permitted and perceived genre classifications. Opening with the ghostly enchantment that is ‘weeping tree’ the obvious nods to Goblin at the start married to the wood crafted rustic dance unfurling hint with woozy delight a 70’s Brit horror landscape, beneath the beauty and allure a glorious floral pageantry is at play daubing fleeting images of spectres engaged in village recitals, pagan prayer and mayday follies, references are easy – Men an Tol and pretty much anything emanating from out of the Owl Service extended family should see you adequately resourced though more pertinently those admiring of Stealing Sheep will find welcoming arms. The ‘version’ edit of the same track is – if at all possible – even more woozy and dreamy than the lead out mix all stirred within twilight hazes and the ethereal purr of siren-esque hymnals. ‘lankin jig’ sits strangely wagging its sore thumb, as the title suggests a shuffling olde English hoedown nimbly noodled by some nifty riff twangs. all said we here are much taken by the parting ‘tidworth drums’ whose ominous monastic throat chants greet from the start soon dissipate to reveal what can only be described as a deeply engaging and lolloping cross hybrid of kosmiche folk kookiness drawing from a mutant and sultry tasting of Australasian and Arabesque motifs whose musical notations I wouldn’t be surprised to hear are carved in ancient stone pillars- add to that that it arrives replete with – if my ears are hearing right – the sadly and rarely heard didgeridoo – think Tunng on an exploratory tour of the outback re-tweaking PIL’s ‘flowers of romance’. http://buriedtreasure.bandcamp.com/album/the-weeping-tree
Another release that somehow managed to lose itself in the horror that was the blue screen of death – a matter further handicapped by the fact that we’ve mislaid our original written guide notes – is a mammoth undertaking by the Silber imprint whose recent catalogue and buoyant activity therein is much deserving of a peak, something which I hasten to add we will all in good time once we find a spare hour or two. For now though ‘QRD – the guitarists’ – a hulking gathering of the undergrounds finest practitioners of the six string set across 4 hours of music taking in 55 contributions covers a wealth of sonic spectrums from noise, ambient, dream, shoe gaze, drone and more and within including a real labour of love – a 2000 plus page ebook hosting 20 years worth of interviews with over 150 guitarists. An immense achievement and something that in time we suspect will deservedly be referenced rightly so as legendary. Alas due to time constraints and as previously noted – the annoying fact that we’ve not only lost our original review but with it our own hand scribbled guide notes – we’ll for now just cherry pick a few familiar friends from the extensive list. First up on the inspection blocks – Yellow6 – with ‘set your heart on the stars’ which finds Mr Atwood loosening up and go all fuzzy and psychotropic in a kind of a mind lost heading space wards and beyond Julian Cope style and gouging the fracturing edges in lashings of down n’ dirty stoned out blues which aside appealing to those shade adorning floppy fringe types among you ought to attract the attention of those tuned into the spiked psych of primordial undermind. Next up Azalia Snail who sent us a lovely little notes along with sound files of new stuff which for the life of me – for now – we’ve lost sight (and ear) of – for now though while we go off in search of the errant tykes there’s always the quite wonderful ‘getting lei’d’ to be going on with, just adoring the candy skinned flavoured pop oozing through this, all dissipating sea breezy vibes and lazy eyed demurring inclines that lend their way to fondly recalling dreamy days misspent lying beneath tree shades cutting surreal shapes from out of the passing wispy clouds above. Plumerai’s Martin Newman undergoes something of a psychotic overdrive for ‘secondhand emotion’ – seriously tripping stuff and just out there stoked and smoked out on bonged out hazes of hulking psychotropics on board some mystic astral ride which midway through sumptuously blossoms to reveal delicate hints of Goblin’s ‘suspiria’ being spiked and fractured by sonic sun spot activity. Fruits de Mer regulars Sendelica are serviced here by Peter Bingham whose ‘sendelica soundscape #2’ provides for a mind wiping 6 minute head kick of woozy oriental hypnosis, reality altering mirages and looping dream machine cycles which should you need sonic reference markers we’d be prone to say that admirers of Roy Montgomery will dig in an instant. Silber head man and Remora dude Brian John Mitchell opts for some deeply demurring glacial sereneness for ‘hills of elfshima’ which comes kissed in the kind mesmeric cradt we’ve come to know and expect from such riff patrons as Wil Bolton and David A Jaycock. It’s been way too long for our liking since Bill Horist had occasion to visit upon these pages, ‘ours scars of braille withheld’ is lovingly frost sculptured, isolationist drone for the best part that strangely finds him a tad quiet and withdrawn exploring inner sound spaces to flesh out a tapestry of shimmering orbs and bowed instrumentations- but be honest you didn’t expect matters to remain so – er – normal and tranquil, good – because matters take a turn at the 3.45 mark and things start to unravel and fracture into a sublime groan of white noise oblivion a la Bruce Russell. That said those preferring their listening space shimmered in twilight hazed astral folk mirages will do well to seek out Alan Sparhawk’s ‘la la daughter mouth’ for required daily dosage intakes of mellowing blissfulness and well just for the hell of it drawn as we were by the title alone – ‘we found a chocolate cake in a basket broken in two pieces’ Julien Ottavi applies himself to turning in 7 minutes of sonic shrapnel courtesy of the type of groaning doom dusted reverbs and off the wall riff bending that sofas were made for to hide behind. http://silbermedia.bandcamp.com/album/qrd-the-guitarists
I’ll be truthful in saying that we’ve been sitting totally blown away to the Unseen’s recent soundtrack for ‘the Goatman’ – a fond appraisal is looming large, for now though we eyed this on the Holy See Fb page and well – there’s no other way of saying this – but we’ve spent the last 10 minutes prizing our jaw from the floor. However a slight bit of a confusion over this for the Unseen are we believe duo Harold Legg – to muddy waters you might well recall us mentioning a track by the name ‘Harold Legg – encounter at foxwood’ – and Simon Magus and this may be a clever slice of misdirection if Grey Malkin’s excellent appraisal of the ‘the goatman’- incidentally via reverb worship’ – soundtrack is to taken thus – see http://forestpunk.wordpress.com/2014/06/29/horrorscores-music-from-the-motion-picture-the-goatman-the-unseen-reverb-worship/ for further enlightenment. ‘Mary’ is billed as the horror film that was canned and banned after its initial screening developed its own unwarranted sub plot whereby a copycat killer struck in 1977 – the identity of whom remains a mystery even to this day. Debates about whether its authentic or an intricate ruse aside, there now appears the opening credit sequence to ‘Mary’ via sound cloud world – a grimly haunting slice of horrorphonic isolationism very much couched in a Goblin dialect and oozing in the kind of vintage 70’s giallo as styled by films emanating from the Argento and Fulci horror psych houses, monochrome shimmers, spectral church organ drones pierced by dreamy pastoral flotillas of brontean canters, the crafting sparse, the vibe chilled and minimalist instil upon this ritualistic recital a sense of the tenderness and the torment not to mention the magical and the macabre. https://soundcloud.com/les_baxter/mary-opening-credits
Available shortly as a digital EP as well as a strictly limited tape arriving in time for this coming cassette store day, Gulp will be releasing a dandy little foursome gathering together the by all accounts 60’s psych popped Stereolab-ish ‘the way’, lost b side ‘diamond in the sky’, the astral cutie ‘space ace’ originally found hogging the groove of a freebie flexi given away with early bird copies of the duo’s album and the frankly adorable ‘I want to dance’. The latter named appears re-phrased and adorned by a new Vegas mix makeover and comes trimmed and tingling in a perky pop moulding that flutters affectionately and lovelorn like a shyly smitten Dubstar crafting and cutting milky way mirror balls out of longing Stereolab loveliness on wonky analogue keys scavenged from flea markets. Irresistible but then you probably gathered that. Out via sonic cathedral. https://soundcloud.com/sonic-cathedral/gulp-i-want-to-dance
Love the way all the attending parts of this slowly form together only to fall away, reset and start the process again with each re-forged sequence assuming a more assured sense of depth, density and dimension until by its fall its maddening persona is upon you consuming and smothering your sound space. From the forthcoming second set ‘white rooms’ via lost tribe sound this is duo Graveyard Tapes with ‘the sun doesn’t want to be photographed’ – coming on like a subdued and shadow hugging Battles, the syncopating tremors of the frantic keys and softly shuffling beats aligned to its monochromatic framing shepherd in to craft a slow burning hysteria that in truth isn’t a million miles from old school Birdpen, the brittle urgency and the introspective bitter sweet hollowed ache swells and infects like moments from Radiohead’s ‘in rainbows’ though draw a little nearer and deep down, should references be your bag, something stirs that appears to be the missing link from Tex La Homa’s ‘dazzle with transience’. https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/134551290&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true
Fuzz kissed bubble groove from Brighton based duo Teardrop Factory, this wiring honey comes dragged from their Faux Discx full length ‘thrash in the heart’ which is – or at least should be – doing brisk business at local record emporiums not least because it comes stamped up on pink wax. Anyhow enough of that this is ‘colour of bones’ with cute and wonky trip-a-delic animated video in tow, as to track itself it comes riddled in moments of Pixies-ish frenzy all fried as were by a scuzzed up day-glo pooh sticks.
You know how we dig woozy blissed out sounds, good job really floppy fringed freaks for this honey has it in oodles. This is the second set from Chilean psychedelicists La Hell Gang entitled ‘thru me again’ and finds them forging links with uber dayglo dandies Mexican Summer for a numbered 1000 only vinyl set (ours is #21 in case your taking notes). These dudes freebase on the lazy eyed lysergic grooves of the black angels and brian Jonestown in crafting out dust hollowed slabs of mind evaporating mirages and acid dipped bonged out moments of side winding blues blurs. Eight tracks lie in wait on ‘thru me again’ and not a duff one in sight especially if you fancy a soundtrack to your peace pipe tooting experiences. Blessed with a knack of going off radar and certainly knowing a thing or two about the art of cobbling together the niftiest of hip shaking grooves whilst none to shy in ramping up the wah wah’s and the effects pedals to mind melting euphoria states a la latter career Roses as on ‘last hit’, its left to the two parting cuts to provide the albums highlights. ‘what you want you got it’ is death by slow seduction, to a softly purred corkscrewing motif everything including you, your headspace, the fixtures around you and even the band helplessly get sucked into an absolutely shit faced and wasted hazily glazed and sensual lost in the moment vibe leaving the end game ‘so high’ to smoke out whatever resistance your still struggling to put up. In truth it was this track that alone sold me and had me parting readies in exchange for these waxen sounds, this comes kissed in a gloriously mellowing cortege of glacial afterburns- just perfect for closing your eyes opening your mind and drifting along dreamily cloud surfing into setting sultry summer skies.
I’m sure you’ve all experienced this at one time or another, you hear a record, it reminds you of a band whose name just slips slightly left of centre of your recall, you know you’ve got releases by them, in your mind’s eye you can even picture them, so you go on the hunt for them – but buggering hell can you find them – no but sure as hell you’ll be tripping over them tomorrow just when you don’t need them. So you try to find them on the internet and your service keeps disengaging – okay the latter bit I’ll agree more than likely you aren’t dogged by unless of course you subscribe to BT (short for Broadband Titsup no less). I say all this because having heard Beezewax’s ‘hazzard’ I’m of the mind that someone in the band (or at least their dad) is the proud owner of a stash of lost nuggets by the Power of Dreams. Swiftly moving on this buzzing little gem comes prized from a forthcoming full length ‘tomorrow’- the latter arriving next month the former around now as it happens, Beezewax – just to fill in the gaps – are a quartet who hail from Norway (which last time I checked was still legal) – anyway this buzz-sawing power popping gem is kissed with the jangling shimmer pop prowess that once upon a time used to adorn the grooves of releases chiefly put out by the much missed Summershine imprint, so fill up on this cuties sun shiny effervescent radiance because folks it’s going to a long, long winter. https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/169152320&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/169152320&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true
Still in the midst of playing catch up following our period of going off radar and being missing in action, we do recall getting an email at some point from Adam Leonard (AB Leonard if you will) whose ‘nature recordings’ you may recall was adored here. Alas we can’t quite put hands or eyes to said email but we do vaguely recall it went along the lines of announcing an ambitious monthly release schedule set across eight EP’s mixed up of covers and original material entitled ‘Octopus’ – at least I think that was the gist of the programme. EP2 just out, (which means as you are now doubt aware at this juncture, we’ve missed EP1 – a small oversight to be remedied soon) feature a rather sterling and stark version of ‘she’s leaving home’ by the Beatles penned of course by a certain Mr McCartney back in the days when his musical mojo was magically tooting full tilt before his doppelganger set off to the sunset to be a farmer, frequent with frogs and rebrand himself as a rapper. Now I could bitch about the Beatles forevermore but one thing you can’t take away from them is their meticulous attention to detail in so much as the mood and structure applied to their songs, ‘she’s leaving home’ being no exception, its perfect to within an inch much like ‘Eleanor Rigby’ the melancholia sensitively sweetened and brushed in autumnal hues are trimmed by a dual conversation where happy and sad tug at each other. For his part Mr Leonard as foolhardy as you might first think does not seek to re-thread the sonic needlework of ‘she’s leaving home’ rather more merely add a stitch, applying a minimalist electronic phrasing his version is adorned with a head bowed hollowing that reverberates with a tearfully bleak chill, the mood stilled is pricked by a very brief moment of hysteria – the mothers scream on the realisation of her daughters departure, midway through though the mood lightens when the focus shifts to the daughters perspective wherein a soft psych musical hazelling comes calling which aside showering something of a kaleidoscopic glaze to matters also hones sparingly on the bitterness of the protagonist. https://adamleonard.bandcamp.com/track/shes-leaving-home
We expected nothing less than cute and kooky from this and are happy to say that we’ve got it in spades here. It’s a testament to an artist’s relevance / worth when an album sticks and lodges itself in your psych and just stays there, for us it was ‘fun 9’ from way back in 2000 – curious, clever, intricate, daft and yet most importantly of all it appeared to operate in its own musical world feasting on a hybrid of musical species and yet remaining unique more so evolved anew. Its author then went off radar. Until that is last year when Dustin Wong coaxed her out of hibernation for a thrill jockey outing entitled ‘toropical circle’. I refer of course to Takako Minekawa. A year or so on and the duo are back again crafting their engaging aural chemistry across a new album ‘savage imagination’ (copies of which we must nab sharpish) from which this delightfully animated video adorned tease is taken. For those previously unfamiliar with Ms Minekawa fear not for ‘pastel ice date’ pretty much encapsulates her strangely willowy and ethereal kookiness in a nutshell, paired with Wong between they engage a glorious kaleidoscopic tropicalia whose bouquet shimmers in lysergic popsicles, both fleeting and flighty and daubed in woozy oriental signatures and that sense of an enchanted forest aura, that said nice to see she’s still operating from planet wonky.
A brief heads up on this one, we’ve only just got the cloud links so we’ll hang on with a full review while we get acquainted with it in its entirety. For now though this is coming via Silver point and it’s by tetherball, taken from an album ‘whimsy’ opening cut ‘bootss’ is a nifty slice of wiring soul funk groove that to these ears sounds as though its stepped straight out of the late 70’s early 80’s new wave scene, seesawing motifs that tempt furious toe tapping has you initially imagining a studio note swapping exchange between Joe Jackson and Kevin Tihista but scratch a little deeper and something more appealing to those admiring Robert Palmer c. ‘clues’ is bevelling the grooves. https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/tracks/163879279&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true
You can sum up this with just one word – sublime. Absolutely unreal and incoming soon on the one little indian imprint by Samaris is ‘tibra’ (the third and final single culled from their quite extraordinary ‘silkidrangar’ album) – a glacial and mysterious folk delight tripped in murmuring ice formed minimalist electronica and delicately demurred by a subdued and stilled ethereal and spookily enchanting elegance that imagines dream draped Bjorkian apparitions snowboarding along super chilled and tripping frost ways carved out by those dudes Astralasia. Faultless.
Here’s a video of them preforming it live from 2011…..
Staying with one little indian a little while longer, shortly to emerge on their off shoot imprint winwin will be the debut single by cloud life who better known to kith n’ kin as Sean Mazzapica has seen fit to run away from a life once pursuing the Californian thrash rock lifestyle to join the lo-fi psychedelic circus and while lead out track ‘archduke’ buzzes along atop a sumptuously dreamy sea breezing and drifting electro wave it’s the flip side ‘holy ghost’ that had us here purring for more arriving amid dissolving milky mirages and playfully twinkled toy box kaleidoscopic charms which by our reckoning finds it sitting comfortable on an aural axis with the busy signals at one end and panda bear on ‘t’other. http://www.winwinrecords.co.uk
Still with winwin – this is going to break hearts and have My Bloody Valentine devotees all a swoon for Italian shoegazing dream poppers Rev Rev Rev are shortly to release ‘catching a buzz’ – an effects pedal drenched head trip that ought by rights to set the floppy fringed purists among you all blurry eyed and lost in a lovelorn psychedelic oblivion not to say proving something of a treat for admirers of the much adored Dead Leaf Echo to seek out. As ever with these things though we here prefer the more woozy and dare we say fracturing offering over on the flip for ‘blue on red’ is the kind of bubble grooving strut kissed sky parting stratospheric haziness that used to fry the groove of platters jettisoning into record world orbit with the seal of quality name Skyray upon their sleeving.
Emerging from the spectral mists of time ingrained in religious mythology and uttered in the lost tongues versed in the old ways, weird folk alchemists the hare and the moon on this occasion aided and abetted by God’s little eskimo cast pebbles into the pools of the past for a darkly beautiful retelling of the 17th C ballad ‘the wife of Usher’s Well’ – a sombre tale of a mother revisited by her three dead sons on St Martin’s day. Haunting and ethereal this archaic visitation chills and chimes with a macabre beauty to impart an eerily mysterious enchantment what first is daubed in a stilled bleak fog bound choral minimalism soon splinters and unfurls with the arrival of shivering noir spectres into a jubilant celestial recital only to fade and then finally to lay to peaceful rest. https://soundcloud.com/thehareandthemoon/the-wife-of-ushers-well
You won’t believe the grief this track has caused, we’ve spent the last 10 minutes checking our speaker connections thinking the issue was at our end only to discover by playing it on another mobile device that its actually meant to sound like that. Now I’ll be the first to admit that this will divide opinion in opposing sides quicker than a hot knife to butter between those who adore it and those who – well not so much hate – rather more tire of it quickly. We on the other hand fall into the former camp you’ll no doubt groan to hear. Latest from the Everything is Chemical is by prettyboy aloe of whom we have no clue about except to say they are hip hopping experimentalist currently cruising the vaporwave scene – according to the tags. By our reckoning these dudes / dude certainly knows their / his way around the frank wobbly and sons/ wobblyhead back catalogues given there’s a fair amount of musical mischief afoot here what with speed manipulations, phazers and a whole host of sepia drenched treatments being applied to give it a full on totally immersive vintage trip aura not least the opening cut ‘the time we spent feels eternal’ a tasty slice of float on woozy 70’s styled chill lounge funk that aside sounding like someone twiddling around with an old transistor setting (older listeners will recall evenings spent huddled beneath bed covers haplessly trying to tune into Radio Luxemburg) is cut from the same kind of smokiness you’d expect Gary Wilson to croon across. All said we here are more than a little favouring the frankly gone ‘Serenity (lil Tofu bootleg)’ which by these ears had us recalling the more playful and less scatty grooves found occupying the tigerbeat6 imprint. http://eicvirtual7inch.bandcamp.com/album/eicv7-no-85
Somewhere out in m mega dodo land you’ll find the killer debut set from mark and the clouds still spiking wigs and having all manner of lysergic shape swirls appearing before your eyes not least this little nugget entitled ‘I run like crazy’ – a freakbeating psych pop darling mainlining on the immortal wimple winch – the danders as they say in smoky small halls frequented by top tuneage tuning knowing patrons…..
And while you are about filling your boots with mega dodo loveliness you might want to sample the delights of Sky Picnic whose third full length ‘her dawn wardrobe’ is just out sporting by all accounts an attractive grey wax framing. While we go off penning begging missives with a view to securing a copy for full close up review here’s the title track – a lilting slice of wispy and mysterious softly demurred kaleidoscopic pastorals to set you on your way, this coming delicately bruised in fleeting introspection all teased in an understated though hypnotic forest glowed ghostliness and voiced in archaic musical madrigals. https://megadodo.bandcamp.com/album/her-dawn-wardrobe
Last appearing in these pages near enough this time last year when viewed on the trip-a-delic back to future’s past 2014 Annual put out by Fruits de Mer wherein they turned in two retro servings of groove ‘lost in space’ and ‘Joe 90’ are the blue giant zeta puppies. Out via the active listener blog site their ’12 theories of time travel’ debut full length has been the cause of much admiring glances and the odd occasional twisty two step across the listening space that is the bijou confines of the Sunday Experience dance floor in the pantry under the stairs. No doubt their time travelling machine appears to have suffered a few glitches because these twanged out sci-fi obsessed space kids still appear to locked into the 60’s space age, zapping the bad guys with their sub atomic twist-a-rama phasers whilst overdosing on the televisual eye candy of the Gerry Anderson TV21 hive mind. That said the Link loving futurama of ‘martians on the surf’ which opens the set neatly tunes its radar into the b-movie groove of the much missed Brand Violet whilst the shimmering ’40 million miles from earth’ seductively shimmers like some sassy cosmic western showdown presided over by those twang twiddling saviours of mankind Man or Astro Man. As you’d rightly imagine of a track going by the name ‘Transylvanian twist’ that this comes kookily festooned in all manner of head wiring spy twanged suspense psychotropia that admirers of the TV Personalities, beatnik filmstars and Magoo will do well to tune into as soon as. Somewhere else the psychosis seeped ‘one for sorrow’- in truth the best thing here – is drizzled in the kind of head bowed lo-fi minimalism bending to fracturing edginess that ought to be checked out by those adoring of the Bordellos . elsewhere ‘outlaw’ is your prime time Shadows c. ‘Apache’ / ‘man of mystery’ and ‘colossus’ is your shade adorned spy lounge lilting 60’s TV cool leaving the Meek mellowed cosmic campfire ditty ‘what don’t kill you’ to see out matters quite touchingly. Recommended then. http://theactivelistener.bandcamp.com/album/the-blue-giant-zeta-puppies-12-theories-of-time-travel-al024
Also worth hooking up with is Active Listener’s latest sampler. ‘#24’ gathers together 15 of the finest bands currently bubbling beneath the underground radar, a few familiar faces lurk here notably Klaus Morlock’s sweetly styled macabre mirages here exquisitely serviced by ‘the derelict nursery’ from his ‘the bridmore lodge tapes’ set for the esteemed reverb worship. Heaven’s Gateway Drugs kick in with a neat spot of terrascopia for the 60’s psych beat frizzled cutie ‘apropos’ which by these ears appears to imagine some mind morphing meeting of Barrett and Bolan types – I kid ye not albeit here getting down with a youthful sounding Bevis Frond. Dodson and Fogg – been a while – serve up some coolly off centred prog soul with ‘when you were young’ which just like the aforementioned HGD cut has more than a fondness for that man Saloman about its wares which is no bad thing especially if it comes cut and distilled in the finest late 60’s vintage as does this. Elsewhere the cosmic analog ensemble will I assure you be featuring more here if we can get hold of their releases, for ‘murs libres’ is a seductive slice of old school kitsch ripped in lounge rumba lilts to friskily sound not unlike something cooked up by a studio pairing of Basil Kirchin and Raymond Scott. One of the sets real finds though is the hazily dazed sun trimmed paisley psych pop wooziness of papernut cambridge’s ‘what she said what she said’ which aside arriving sumptuously teased in swooning lysergia pretty much shoehorns into 5 minutes a kind of all-star Elephant 6 happening peppering love note rainbows across your listening space. That said we were equally smitten by holograma’s ‘in your head’ not least because they appear to emanate from a more cosmically tripped minimalist and motorik sonic axis as to suggest a more shy eyed variant of the sound carriers in cahoots with fuxa and the paris angels. Those loving their ear ware graced in cosmedelic pulsars and somewhat treated in the spirit of electronica’s silver age might be mindful to seek out the Ilk’s dreamy dansette demurring ‘powerplant’ which in truth arrives in the promise of 70’s French space cadets Space fancying themselves going toe to toe with the Silver Apples only to along their lunar trajectory pick up hitchhikers Chic. Just when you think things can’t get any better then along comes ‘the mountains on fire’ by EDJ to do the kind of widescreen galactic goliath pop that you’ve come to expect and appreciate from Craig Padilla – annoyingly brief I should point out cuts out before it has a chance to sky rocket off. The Autumn Stone are another ensemble who I suspect you’ll be hearing more of in these musings months to come, ‘the river song’ is quite unreal, a twinkle tipped rustic posy set to a steadily looping hypnotic groove that had I not known better would be hazarding all my worldly belongings on for a bet to say it was the Earlies. Stargazers well attuned to the kosmiche grooves of eat lights become lights will fall off their telescope stand upon hearing espectrostatic’s ‘escape to witchtropolis’ albeit here somewhere along it’s lunar journey it appears they’ve picked stowaways from a Foxx era Ultravox and bugger me if heed the thunder’s maypole hoedown ‘horrible condition’ doesn’t sound as though its got the spirit of Lupen Crook coursing through its sonic veins which as you know itself is a seal of admiring approval around these here parts. And still they come – the excellently named the sunchymes really do sound as though they’ve fallen through some bubblegum pop time vortex for this honey toned treat entitled ‘mr Buckstone’ sounds as though it was penned by the late Bob Crewe and slips teasingly to at once recall the raspberries, late 60’s era Beach Boys and the summer hymns here all sumptuously washed through in dayglo swirls. As for montibus communitas’ ‘the pilgrim at the shrine’ – well what can we say – for the Peruvian psychedelicists cook up an inspired cornucopia of head blender styled psych tropicalia spiked in a stirring feast of ecstatic earthbeat and voodoo ju-ju that’s wild, deeply intense and super fried. Stoner psychedelics are the order of the day for the chill dipped woozy groove of ripe minded’s ‘eyes and mind’ – a bonged out head trip of dissipating sitars and far out flashbacks leaving slow motion rider to carry out the set with the thoughtfully mellowed out ‘never blue’ which in truth whose softly uncoiling slick post rockian needlework had us of an overwhelming desire to dig out our stash of death cab for cutie nuggets of yesteryear. http://active-listener.blogspot.co.nz/search/label/Downloads
We here are getting a tad doe eyed and affectionate over this little darling by the Kuhls – that’ll be sisters Grace and Renee – whose new full length ‘holy rollin’ is as we speak huffing and puffing its way into record world (well the UK that is as it seems the album has surrendered the more clued in patrons residing stateside with reference to Parsons and the Stones being festooned like confetti) – with an estimated arrival date December time via tip top recordings. From that set ‘leaving the prairie’ has been sent out on a scouting sortie and bugger me its tasty and sounding not unlike something that’s found itself chuckling and rolling from out of the esteemed pressing plant of k records all needled in seductive riff croons and serviced with a lightly lazy eyed country caress that in truth comes on like Mirah in some sort of studio soiree with a smoked out and laid back Throwing Muses.
Gorgeous in a word. Pristine in another. It’s the voice I tell you, the way it trembles and quivers, perfectly sitting between sorrow and seduction, bruised in vulnerability yet fearfully alluring like a ghostly siren – if references are to made – somewhere nudging between Emma Pollock and Hope Sandoval both smitten with the touch of the Vashti’s. So far – if you believe press release hyperbole – the secret preserve of Lyttleton, a small port town to the north of Christchurch in New Zealand for it is here that Aldous Harding plies her trade wooing the residents and soothing the passers- by with her ethereal folk hymns. To date, familiar to the local populace, she’s released home grown platters by way of lyttleton records- home of marlon Williams and Delaney Davidson. Yet as with all secrets, eventually they will out , so step forth spunk records who’ve gathered together several of these songs and pressed them upon an album – self titled – in readiness for a November release from which as a teaser we have the delectable ‘unspk’ – in truth quite something else all dreamily framed by the breathless sigh and surge of waltzing wood crafted fiddles all delicately back dropping the hopelessly adoring quivering shimmer of Harding’s sweetly yearned tones themselves etched apparition like spring twinkled and glazed in twilight enchantment.
This come highly recommended by Brian Bordello, as ever a good call for they Ill have turned in a frankly essential three track EP ‘the housewives trilogy’ which comes impishly described as ‘noisily combatting myths of marital bliss and gender role satisfaction. Great for doing the ironing to.’ angular, twisted, schizoid and sounding as though its been dropkicked straight out of a 1979 / 80 mix tape, these sore thumbs have clearly cut their teeth on the early catalogue of the Fall before swiftly moving along to devour the more off radar platters from lost Peel playlists from around the day, in short Ill concoct the kind of wired off centred crookedness that the likes of the filthy little angels and cherryade imprints used to upturn with joyous persistence. With obvious nods to the Au Pairs in particular with a few side glances to X-Ray Spex, opening sortie ‘hysteria’ digs deep into the psyche of the criminally underrated Ludus to apply a sharply needling nag nag nag mindset that curdles to bleed with snarling frustration. The spitefully playful ‘secret life’ on the other hand is blessed with a frenzied loop locking police siren like riffola that jabs and jars away with a bracing face peeling militarist precision, edgy, furious and frantically wiring its way deep into safe confines of your psych to cause abject bedlam much a seriously at the end of their tether Lovely Eggs. ‘diazepam’ sweetly wraps up matters in a most attractive and skewiff comatosing way that finds it dizzily and kooky stumbling and weaving to a curious music hall romp rippled in vivid moments of colour sharp euphoria, I short a damaged delight. https://weareill.bandcamp.com/album/the-housewives-trilogy
Highly admired around these here parts Riot Season fresh from the critical acclaim levelled upon that quite frankly essential Earthling Society set ‘england have my bones’ (have you got your copy yet?) are about to engage with the most daring turntables across the land with the release of three brand new long playing platters……
Alas no info on the excellently named the art of burning water but their 5th full length ‘living is for giving, dying is for getting’ promises to be a whole hulking slab of light sucking doom draped grind if teaser track at the hands of them’ is anything to judge by. Not quite your sunny disposition hand holding skipping into happy land affair, it seems the art of burning water emerge from a darker place, a place of apocalyptic attrition where your nightmares are their dreams for this is brutality maximus set upon a seething mass of frenzied rage with just one purpose in mind – to annihilate your listening space – unrelenting, unforgiving and unhinged, in short dansette replete with grim portent and garrotting riffage to go. https://soundcloud.com/riotseason/art-of-burning-water-at-the
Crafting the kind of vintage sounding stoner psych that purists have come to expect emerging from the easy rider and rise above sound houses, Sloth return to the fray with their second full length the six track song ‘deep mountain’. Out on parole doing good listening business is teaser ‘legs’ – a trip-a-delic bad dude that sounds not so dissimilar to a seriously bonged out and gone Leaf Hound that comes brimming and overdosing in all manner of sparked out and tripping wasted blues motifs and top drawer Blue Cheer sludginess which turntable wise translates simply as totally shit faced and out there. https://soundcloud.com/riotseason/sloath-legs-2014
Expect flashbacks, dimensional shifts and all manner of head warping wooziness when Blown Out’s wig flipped ‘drifting way out between suns’ docks into record world orbit. Upon prized slabs of heavy duty wax will be stamped two monolithic 20 minute head trips from this trio of freak out priests for the edit version of the title track is a time tripping mind frying sonic storm of zonked out fringe parting oblivion, a trip into the dark unknown of the inner psych to places where even the Acid Mothers cautiously pull up. Absolutely off the radar and off its box. https://soundcloud.com/riotseason/blown-out-drifting-way-out-between-suns-radio-edit
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As ever take care of yourselves…..xx
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