Monthly Archives: November 2009

the fresh & onlys: grey-eyed girls (woodsist) / tim cohen: the two sides of… (secret seven)

like the swiss and minarets, i have to draw a line under too much of somethingor other. i have gorged myself sick recently on the various mangled forms of garagey rock that’s floating bloated in my musical bathtub just now, clutching brokenly on jack daniels bottle. so this’ll be brief and to the point. and [...]

the weekend randoms (monotonix @ nice n sleazy / eagleowl: sleep the winter 7″ / the unwinding hours)

monotonix: madness. sheer fucking madness. like dr teeth and the electric mayhem came to town for one night only and sexually molested each and every one of us with a deluge of sweat and curlycurlyhairs and and monstrous riff skuzz and sports socks and burt reynolds mustaches and and and frank zappa hair and restless unsettled percussive [...]

jandek: six and six (jackpot / corwood industries)

i’ve always preferred the idea of jandek more than his music. not that i don’t dig his monotonic klang. i do. but i love the the outsider mythos that grew up around him that much more. obviously barry esson put an end to this by dragging his mysterious ass onto a stage in glasgow five [...]

peter wright: bright failing star (release the bats) / an angel fell where the kestrels hover (spekk)

another month, another two peter wright records and another chance to dust off polyphiloprogenitive, one of my favourite words. following on from snow blind, which frankly destroys and, in comparison, has blown every other record this year out the water (or at least to the side of the overly chlorinated pool), come these two within [...]

volcano the bear: muscles of joy: tattie toes (stereo, glasgow)

tattie toes play a kindof semi-made-up (isn’t everything?) basque balkan jazz folk strammash. with a bit of velvet underground violin screech and ceilidh stomp and shanty wooze. a rhythmic fucking delight. big ballsy gutsy singing from small lady. and a clattering kinetic rattle that reminds me occasionally of sunburned hand of the man. felt like [...]

the mantles: s/t (siltbreeze)

variations on a theme? not om. not hadyn. just that i’ve got a pile of this-kind-of-thing mooching desk space right now; from the ever reliable in the red, is john dwyers newest as thee oh sees; slightly surprisingly from de stijl, the (overly?) perky pens record; and the vivian girlsish rocket-spunk conciseness of brilliant colors [...]

evangelista: prince of truth (constellation)

or where carla bozulich indulges her inner swan (not cygnus but the blackened no-wave skree of gira and jarboe). always interested by the crazy lines you can draw from the noise and avant-whatever to folk / blues / country twanging. and ms. bozulich offers up a rather fine example wandering as she does between the [...]

aarktica: in sea / vlor: six winged (silber)

aarktica: in sea – the most suprising thing about this record is not the cover of danzig’s (video below) am i demon? it’s not the fact that the fella who made the bugger lost the hearing in his right ear. nope. the shock-o-rama here is that with that name, the song titles and the now [...]

buon giorno luamada: s/t / minus the bear: into the mirror / marc broude: rites of zen (more odd things found)

buon giorno luamada: buon giorno luamada - more blissful blossoming lotuses of lovely dream noise from perdizes dream, brazils answer to not not fun. if yr familiar with babe, terror’s warm analogue burblings then yr on safe ground here. does that sleepy dusk/dawn sensation home-taping thing that the likesof ducktails and their various bastard children do. y’know [...]

hair police: family battle snake: moon unit: stereo: glasgow

moon unit: not zappa’s daughter. but the three piece featuring nackt insecten’s scrabbletastic ruaraidh sanachan on guitar (and not sitting on a rug full of overdriven twinkly things). they had the inevitable guy with table of wires and joyboxes. but really the show belonged to the fella on drums knocking buggery fuck out of his [...]

plankton wat: dawn of the golden eternity (dnt)

some of this sounds like it was made for the basement. some of this sounds like it was made for the porch. which is to say, dawn of the golden eternity glues together some burnt-out bedroom psyche malarkey with fahey primitive string flicking. which is to say, while not particularly new i just got a [...]

jesu: opiate sun (caldo verde)

is it just me or does jesu seem more at home here than on hydra head? doth broadrick on these records not have more in common with the fuzzy slo-mo murmurings of mark kozelek and alan sparhawks rockist tendencies? i think so. in fact i’d be so bloody bold (though not really) to say that [...]

neil mcsweeney: shoreline

neil mcsweeney plies his trade in territory that’s been radio blighted by every guitar wielding blubbering hormonal sac with a plastic soul to bare, with blanditudes proffered to soft-faced men in shiny cars and bleary-eyed women drinking wine alone in over-decorated apartments. territory that once encompassed a buncha folks from sam cooke to hank williams [...]

the flaming lips: o2 academy: glasgow

this kindof says it all… i walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a southern pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry. jack kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same [...]

last days of radio (folk is a dirty word)

and it’s not about the beards.  although i’m pretty sure there’s beards involved. it’s not brown or beige or tank-fucking-tops or feedeldydeedledydeee. it’s not getting into a debate on traditional or contemporary or post- and neo- and psych- whatever. no more hyphens. it is what it is. if dylan electric is judas then john moloney is satan. these songs sometimes are [...]

gowns: broken bones (latitudes / southern)

want to know what kinda place this freaky skeletal shit is coming from? read erika anderson’s liner notes: listening to this recording evokes a time when we were barely holding on by our fingernails. ezra had broken bones in his foot, which the cold and rain didn’t help. there were points during that tour where [...]

incapacitants: lon guy (harbinger sound)

quelle surprise mouth breathers, yet more racket. and boy is this clever stupid. wonderfully so. like kevin drumm’s noise work there’s a sense of humour behind the squall (impotent hummer anyone…) which frankly in this ever so po-faced scene is a minor miracle. and this mad rubbery bugger is chock full of chuck jones style [...]

kevin drumm: imperial horizon (hospital productions)

so as i lurch from one depressing personal tragedy to another i figured i need something ugly and harsh to soundtrack these rather grim days. and i figured what better fella to get involved in this than kevin drumm. the man who spawned, vomited, shat out, sheer hellish miasma. which at times provided the most [...]

endless endless endless / e.p. hall / sentient machine (another rum bunch of random offerings)

endless endless endless: black talisman – this frankly is rather beautiful. in every way. handsomely packaged as some kind of laser etched shamanic artefact. and aurally the kindof shit that wouldn’t sound out of place on not not fun or next to james ferraro’s holy mountain output. self described as a post-noise duo that plays [...]

errata / i was totally destroying it / turzi (a rum bunch of random offerings)

errata: errata – i s’pose you’d have to class this as post-something if you were in the classification business. post-metal, post-hardcore, post-whatever. what they do is that kindof epic soundscape meets thundering uber-chordage and throaty roar-vox that envy (should that be inveja…) and cult of luna (if they were amphetamined out their swedish heads) and [...]

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