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Archive for April, 2012
This dude is a bit mysterious. Sisto Rossi, from Germany, put out a lot of underground stuff maybe? Now he’s moved to the US and this might be his last tape? I don’t know. It’s not that important. Wisdom From The Stars is though. This is some grand shit. Looong stretched out synth jams that are pure. evil. Old school horror score style but planted firmly in the sci-fi genre. Deep dark drones sprawling out into the unknown, haunted spaceships, cockpits gone haywire, red machine eyes giving you the staredown, distant pulsars making tiny waves on your pulsar-meters, minimal slabs of synth, bubbling & chirping synths, all manner of sci-fi terror drone rolled into one brilliant hour-long tape of desolation. Sadly already sold out at the label, so check yer distros and knab the digital if all else fails.
So there’s a little story behind Stolen Years, but I’m not sure I have it entirely straight. Anduin (aka Jonathan Lee) was robbed and lost all of his Anduin material. Then, here’s where it’s fuzzy, he either salvaged from the ashes the bare bones of Stolen Years or this is entirely new material made in response to the robbery. Either way, this is some dark shit. Like Leyland Kirby going electro-acoustic and scoring Twin Peaks, or a Demdike Stare / Dirty Three hybrid, something along those lines. This is fucking awesome. Subtlety & delicacy reign supreme, slow evil synths paired with creepy saxophones, samples of chains clinking & knives sharpening, the sweeping up of dried bodily remains, shuffled feet beats locked in an indefinite nightmare, the atmosphere here thick as fuck, choking on black rust, rain leaking into an abandoned shack, depression and shame weighing heavy. So much is right about this album. I don’t even really like the saxophone but I think Stolen Years wouldn’t be half as good without it. And the packaging is incredible, on both CD & LP versions, done by the highly qualified Team Eight. Check out some photos of the design and make sure you don’t miss out on this.
Absolutely incredible new tape from Gomberg on Avant Archive. Two tracks each side, the first one: drone, then some wonky dynamics. The opening on the A side is a subtle slab of calm, the stillness just before dawn, with an increasing sense of paranoia that the sun might not actually rise, that turns into a meditation on darkness and the possibilites of a world without sun. The B side opener is much more blissful, though just as dark, melancholic organ-type drones bringing down the house with deep rumbles and bittersweet progressions. Both closing tracks are full of echoey weirdness, drifting dreams, sustained tones plunked out and smothered in hiss, the last track depressing as hell, the epitome of loneliness. So so good. And this is one of AA’s limited releases, so you know what to do.
Nocht The Only Ghouls. Weird stuff! I think it’s their debut release, but at the very least it’s the first from Vwyrd Wurd, and it’s on vinyl and PWYW at Bandcamp. This conjures some dark days, super fine black folk, lonely guitars emanating from empty attics, overgrown graveyards absent of color, slow & meticulous, sparse & haunted, with subtle electronics, nearly non-existent vocals, and hidden percussion. The electronics become more apparent as the album progresses and by the end of it, it’s turned into more of a dark ambient/drone. Awesome as fuck, an original album of dusty midnight rituals to add to the increasingly large but still sadly small pile of neofolk.
Despite the plurality, Wastelanders is actually just one dude, Dean Costello. And he’s got four different labels working on his side, C&C and BF doing the CD release, Space Idea is taking care of the tape, and Hewhocorrupts, Inc. is releasing it digitally. Maybe a little over the top, but whatever. I’m just glad this is getting out there on all fronts because Cosmic Despair is a fuckin BEAST. Mostly organ based, this is a drone record for the masses, calling up all sorts of dark places. The first few tracks are as depressing as it gets, gloom thick enough to asphyxiate on, solid minimal melancholy that turns your heart into lead and brings gods to tears. Then there’s a 15 minute piece that gets noisier, rumbling feedback sounds crisped on the edge of a black sun while stardust and distant beacons twinkle in the faded background. The final 20 minute closer is a fucking burner, shifting gears into something wholly uplifting, stripped of darkness and brought fully into the light, holy & transcendental, busting out all the instruments on hand to make for a hypnotic ritualistic drone to assist in trans-dimensional passage. Impecable stuff. I can’t get enough of this. Then again, I’m always a sucker for organ drones, so, consider me slightly biased.
Max Bondi, the dude who also runs Tartaruga, has crafted a totally fucking incredible record here. Masterful in ways that are beyond me. Convolution is a drone/analog synth (maybe? no liner notes so I’m just goin with my gut) record, and if that’s an automatic deterrent for whatever reason, please take half a minute and look beyond that. Each discrete track is a fucking winner but this works much more beautifully as a whole, smoothly shifting gears from minimal drone to bubbly synths (with one exception, track 3, that breaks off the minimalist path for some relatively abrasive sequencing, giving you a taste of things to come). It’s like the sounds of a spelunker’s dreams, the deepest gemstoned caves, the air thick and stagnant, only moving from your breath’s disruption, gorgeous when it subtly shimmers, dank dungeons of hopes & terrors, scared stiff, heavy relief, and the halfway point, “Monopoles,” acts as a bridge to the yin/yang, making way for more dynamics, more standing room, synths locked in arhythmic sequences, the drones still present but more varied & buried, an overwhelming display of underground magic that turns into a frenzied dash for the exit. A record this fucking good only comes around once in a long while, and when it’s packaged as beautifully as this (screenprinted thick gatefold card, hand sewn, with a fold-out double-sided screenprinted insert), you should do everything in your power to make sure you don’t miss it.
This is some truly incredible shit. Crowhurst is primarily Jay Gambit, with some pals lending hands when needed, and There Is No Hope Here is the final piece in his Hopeless trilogy, an hour long no-filler slab of doomed & droning noise. A hulking beast of a record, next level power electronics taking the fury down a notch, upping the subtlety, and incorporating a hefty dose of gloom. Huge ear shattering walls of static, melancholic chords, Millipedian guitar sprawls, massive solid drone run through a hundred years of grit. So much awesomeness. Sadly, you missed out on pre-ordering the vinyl (there were only 6 made by Corporate Records), a 12″ of concentric circles that break into three parts (12″, 10″, 7″) that can be played individually or as a whole. Too cool. But fear not, a tape is on the way courtesy of Feral Fang, and if that doesn’t suit your fancy, Gambit has released There Is No Hope Here as a PWYW download. No excuses.
The one & only Medroxy Progesterone Acetate is back with a fuckin beast of a double tape, 2 hours of insanity that gets the deluxe packaging treatment from Black Horizons (side note: the image up there is only an interpretation, a snippet of the full artwork). This is some downright fucked up shit, wavering between diseased drones, black ambient, filthy industrial, nightmarish noise, and drifting shimmer. All sorts of weirdness on here with Darren Bauler taking on most of the responsibilities and various friends adding such talents as “Possession States,” “Concussion Machines,” and “Recording Anomalies.” The sounds are fucking out of this world, disgusting & horrific, festering & boiling drones, straight from the demon’s stomach, voices abound, dazed whispers rambling paranoia and death, haunting your very soul, shrill tinnitus bleeding out of every pore until it’s no longer part of the tape, it’s taken up residence and infected your ears, subtle rhythms grow into discrete beats that sound like old rusted machinery trying to reclaim their previous lives, and strangest of all, the moments of pleasant dreams and blissful ambience, tiny beacons shining out of the rotted wasteland. The bleak & harrowing doesn’t get much better than this.
It’s been at least a couple years since I’ve written about Book Of Sand (How Beautiful To Walk Free), or his previous doom project Light (A Million Dead Beneath The Ice and Life Is Meaningless & Goes On Forever, so I’ll forgive you if you don’t remember him. But only partially because this dude has always been the fucking best. Don’t forget it. His new one, Mourning Star, is packed up all sexy-like courtesy of MRL and might be his best one yet. Black metal doesn’t even begin to describe this beast. This dude is a master genre bender, using black metal as a melting pot to throw in everything from doom to neo-classical. There’s so much going on that it’s hard to get your brain situated, raw discordant riffs starting off mostly in synch until they devolve into a sloppy mess of noise, furiously relentless drums, tortured screams, drunken lurching doom, slow & massive, burnt & charred Americana guitars, caked in ancient dust and disintegrating before your eyes, atonal strings turning a blackened nightmare into a ghostly eulogy, xylophones plinking away in some distant room in the corner of a rotting mansion, at times atmospheric and ephemeral or in your face and undeniable, but always churning your stomach, brutal, tasteful, and wholly fucking original. Book Of Sand is at the top of his game, Mourning Star giving you everything you want from 21st century black metal. He’s fucking doing it and you fucking need it.
A new killer tape on House Of Alchemy from Painting For Animals, some dude who calls himself Pær Svn, which may or may not be a legitimate name in another language? I don’t know. What I do know is that this is some deep shit, hardcore doom drones for cracking open the inner self. Two side long pieces, a psalm each for the Sun & Moon, two sides of the same coin, not exactly sonic opposites, conjuring the light & dark (respectively) but both definitely cemented in the underworld. Like Phurpa or Zurvan or any of those tantric minimalists, Thee Body Ov Worship is full of densely immobile darkness, slow drifts of blackened feedback and incessant rumbling, meditative buzz & hum that bores deep in your skull, all penetrating, ever present, and as welcome as an infinite sleep at journey’s end. Totally fucking awesome. Nothing quite like this. The tape is limited as tapes usually are, but is still available as far as I know. If not, head to PFA’s Bandcamp and pay whatever you want for it or anything else in his back catalog.
Brand new one on the forever awesome Students Of Decay (who has now semi-joined forces with Experimedia), Already Gone being only the second release from the two En dudes (Maxwell August Croy & James Devane), making truly wonderful ambient drones. Lush and warm, slow swells in the midnight ocean glowing under the moonlight, golden wheat fields dancing as far as the eye can see, slow ether drift, floating in calm drones while every other sound is a million miles away, and a full side-long piece of exquisite beauty, the definition of a slow burner, relaxed electronics & strings effortlessly intertwined, a woven blanket of heavenly bliss, textured like a fine white sand at the edge of the sea, growing to a subtle, harmless, glorious wall of static. This is the real deal, true blue dreams. You want this on vinyl, obviously, and it’s limited, obviously, so hurry your ass up.
Total fucking annihilation. Just one dude bringing the whole world down. This is short (about 10 minutes) but free, and is probably the biggest bang for your buck you’ll get all week. This is some of the best black metal noise on the market, flecked with grind & doom and caked in filth. This is so blown out, the sound actually drops out, moments when its burning in the red and it’s just static crackle. The vocals are almost indistinguishable from anything else, the instruments non-existent, everything is a crumbling mess of noise exploding from your speakers, a raw necro wasteland from the depths of a desert hell, burnt, charred, and scarred, nothing as brutal as this. Unbelievably awesome. He’s posted a bunch of his albums for free on Bandcamp, ranging from black ambient to… this nightmare inducing acid bath. So get the fuck over there and support this madman.
This is some weeeeird shit. You might remember Tedesco from his free album Future Strains a couple years back. Well, Pretty Lies doesn’t have much in common with that sonically, but it’s still free! Yeah, you definitely want to go download this. It’s some bizarre experimental pop, with Tedesco goin off the deep end, delivering a dark kitchen sink record with noise punk, anti-folk, electronics, every instrument he can get his hands on, and vocals that defy categorization, insanely deep & rich, like Morrissey singing opera, or maybe like some folk metal bards, very story like, and frequently depressing as hell with lyrics like “I’ll probably die alone but that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about my soul.” This is weird on every level, but still rooted in pop, so there’s recognizable song structures and melodies and shit, even if there isn’t always a chorus to chime in with. It’s not an easy listen by any means, but 1) you like it that way and 2) this beast is free. Ain’t no reason for you to skip over this unless you’re feeling unadventurous, in which case, download it any way and save it for a rainy day.
Not like I enjoy Facebook or anything, but people seem to use it a lot. So hey, now Anti-Gravity Bunny is on Facebook. Actually, I’ve been there for a little while, I just forgot to let you guys know.
I try to share other cool shit on my Facebook page that I don’t post about here, so there is a little extra content.
And now I’m on Pinterest. I post pictures of bunnies and buildings collapsing. Also, albums that I own/want/look cool.
And I’m on Twitter, which you might already know.
Yup. Social media overload.