Monday, August 25, 2014
Label: Fantastic Plastic
One of the first records I posted on this blog was the Ikara Colt "Chat And Business" lp (still a go-to), and frankly, I'm really surprised that I never posted this one. Like, what was I thinking?
Sorry dudes (and that one girl).
If you missed the other post, and you're excused if you did, as it was from 2008, then here you go. Ikara Colt, total English post-punk perfection. The Fall ripped from Mark E. Smith's evil clutches and accelerated into the new millennium with slashing, searing guitars and that subtle dance beat now and again. It's art school snobbery that looks down it's nose at your philistine ways, even as it invites the lead singer of Fudge Tunnel to produce it's record. You're in, but you're out.
The band said they would break up after 5 years, and they did just that. Two albums and poof. Gone.
More bands should adopt that modus operandi.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
It's been 10 months since I posted one of these radio show editions...which is weird, because I have so many of them already made and ready to go on my computer. Could it be that I'm just super lazy?
This time around we cover a lot of ground, surveying a lot of sounds (freestyle!). The opening Guzzard track is such a banger, it usually gets the repeat treatment prior to moving forward...and if you disagree with my listening habits you can take it up with my attorney. From there you'll careen straight through some contemporary noise rock, into some grungier territories (including the criminally underrated American Psycho Band), then get dragged around the dark parts of town by some irascible characters, prior to pulling yourself into the comparable "light" of more contemporary ugliness before a strange diversion through early 90's emo, and then the other shoe drops and Gus (Canadian Gus mind you) douses you in crippling sludge that you barely can shake off for the next couple of tracks, until your knight in shining armor, Soundgarden, rides through to carry you off to the gilded halls of Valhalla, but accidentally drops you off in some backwoods moonshine distillery, of which your only means of escape is hacking at your reluctant hosts with some noisy hardcore.
Phew. You're bushed. Cash, gas, or ass; nobody rides for free.
The American Psycho Band
Christ On A Crutch
Monday, August 18, 2014
Further evidence that Pipe was/were/shall be a power(Fun)house of dirt-caked, riff-heavy, snarling goodness. This being the final piece of that evidence, as they broke up not long after it's release...but then reanimated a couple years ago and are playing here and there...without any new material that I'm privy to.
This record slows down the angry a bit (a sonic reducer?), and gets a bit more garage-y than the preceding records did, but it's still a rock album of the highest order, covered in grit, spat out in a thick, rich, full guitar tone, aimed squarely at their enemies (real and perceived). There's a Subsonics cover in the mix...and Elvis Costello as well, just so you know. But don't be fooled into thinking Pipe "got soft" (phallic joke redacted by request of management) or something, this band still specializes in bad attitudes and slinging ashtrays across the bar at your forehead (out of love, of course).
Hail NC! Hail Pipe!
By popular (or singular...whatever) demand, here it is, the Crawlpappy 7"! And....AND, as an added bonus, you get their two songs from the Mentally Broken vol. 3 (yes, there were two preceding that one) Compilation. one of which was also featured on the split 7" they did with Sheer Terror that Suburban Voice fanzine put out. What a deal!
And speaking of deals, the 7" features Mike Sentkiewitz from Raw Deal. Sadly, nobody from Outburst was in the band, that would have been too much to handle I guess, but John Stanier of Helmet and later Battles played drums on it. That's good, right?
I only saw Crawlpappy once, it was when they toured opening for Quicksand and Helmet in Wilmington, NC. And talk about awkward, me and my buddy Rob (yes, "the" Rob-R-Rock if you must know) were planning on making the 3+ hour drive to see the show, but when I go to pick him up, he tells me he's not going, but in his place his girlfriend is instead. Huh? You mean the same girl that fucking hates me, and everyone else in the world? That girlfriend? Awesome, I was hoping I'd get 6-7 hours of alone time with her in a car to really bro down. Cool. Thanks.
Turns out we got along famously, and she was a lot cooler than I gave her credit for. Go figure. Also the show was fantastic and Crawlpappy held their own even against two heavyweights like Quicksand (who were about to put out their first album) and Helmet (who had just released Meantime), all three bands were arguably at the top of their game. Good fucking show.
This one's for you Phil.
Originally posted 08-12-10, reposted 12-26-13, reposted AGAIN 08-18-14 (for the last time)
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Label: Sub Pop
A nice, hand-picked, compilation from photographer Charles Peterson to soundtrack his book of photos that follow the rise of the Seattle (and greater Pacific NW) musical scene from roughly 1983 to 1995, which, when you think about it, was a pretty good scene to point a camera towards. And while you've no doubt heard all of these songs, you probably haven't hear them in THIS order...huh? Huh?
Flashback to a golden age and do it with windows down.
Green River - Ain't Nothing To Do
Mudhoney - No One Has
Nirvana - Negative Creep
Tad - Ritual Device
Soundgarden - Entering
Screaming Trees - Flashes
Beat Happening - Midnight A-Go-Go
Seaweed - Selfish
Fastbacks - What's It Like
*Link is fixed...I think...try it again. (08-14-14)
Label: Eolian Empire
Oh my. These guys should be ashamed of themselves for producing what is patently offensive music to anyone with civil tastes and refined palettes. I graduated cotillion class, Honduras! Your crusty, hammer swinging, hellcore is NOT going to single handedly reverse what the honorable Floretta Baylin (RIP) taught me in her dance studio! I can Cha Cha, I know which fork to use first at dinner, I know how a receiving line must operate in order to facilitate a proper affair! And you think some feedback and roaring and ill-tempered attitudes are going to change all of that?! Not on your lives, buddies!
(real talk: Eolian Empire has quietly been releasing some of the best loudness in recent memory...most certainly you should all check into their catalog, it's ripe with beautifully ugly gems)
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Label: Made In Kansas
"You call THIS a church?!"...one of many, many, many accusatory screeds levied against you, fair listener, as you try to surface from beneath a dense fog of oppressive noise. Wielding songs like death threats, this band has returned to your front door to further mock your family and ridicule each and every life decision you've ever made. You'll never know what it is that you have done to warrant this type of harassment, as you feel that your life to this point has been just and right, but here you are, face to face with a menace beyond compare, which you certainly have not been prepared for.
I got my copy of this cassette in the mail just an hour ago, and thought that I would take a couple days to really get to know the songs, to digest their "true meaning"...or something. But holy fucking shit, after the false start of opening "track" "HELLO???" (essentially 54 seconds of barely audible sound), the brakes come off and this record veers wildly out of control, serving up three unbelievably gnarled attacks in a row that only relent when fifth and final track "I Promise NOT To Kill Myself" threatens to Love 666 you right off the cliff! The viciousness which powertakeOFF employ comes as a welcome respite after their previous lp of unabated sludge-fuck (a compliment, mind you) abuse. It's invigorating to hear them going for the throat and keeping the hammer down for the entirety of the three "traditional" songs on the album. Not to discount the apparent mental disorders at work here, because when they decide to "get weird", they drop the hammer on weirdness just as skillfully. The methodical nature of the barrage goes a long way in amplifying the glorious hate spilling out of each fucked up riff.
Highly recommended. Limited edition of 100 cassettes, mixed by Scott Evans of Kowloon Walled City, so move it fat ass.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
What would be the matter with the kind of person who couldn't get going to this record? Like, what would allow that level of stubbornness and unpleasantness in a guy (I'm going to give the ladies a pass on this one...I'm not real certain that a woman should find much joy in Saint Vitus...nor am I sure I could trust a female like that)?
Three songs; one being a Black Flag cover (obviously [and it's a perfectly crafted version, naturally]), one being a mournful Sabbath-y ode to the proverbial "end", and the other being my personal favorite Saint Vitus jammer of all jammers, "Look Behind You". It's also worth noting, this is the Wino fronted version of the band which, I'm sure some would disagree (but they'd be stupid, fucking idiot assholes for doing so), is THEE quintessential version. Plus, also worth noting that Dave Chandler on the cover has combined "metal chic" (bullet belt and bandanna) with "hardcore aesthetic" (Germs t-shirt and Chuck Taylors) a full two decades before the look caught on. Next level shit.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Mother of mercy! Survival Knife deliver the goods with extreme prejudice! The live version of "Gold Widow" is a killer.
Cannot get enough of this band, they are scratching a very specific musical itch that not many others are even qualified to do. If you don't have their album yet, you'd be wise to save up you lawnmowing money and get cracking on it.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Label: Self Released
Your mother cut your Tang with Drano, didn't she? That is, when she bothered to feed you at all.
Your childhood was a stifling dog crate lined in scratchy, flea-infested wool. Your friends were the swords of sunlight that managed to break through the wire mesh and cut the darkness into suffocating shafts of escape. Your favorite song was, and always will be, the sound of the car pulling out of the driveway.
Love thy neighbor...
Damn near anti-everything, this builds on the rhythmical disrespect of a Venetian Snares glitch, crossed with the abrasive hate of "Fucked On A Pile Of Corpses" era Skullflower, played with the bad attitude of a Harry Pussy...but with the loving grace of a band saw. It's the atonal scree of Wolf Eyes as deciphered and recoded by Masami Akita's 808, and narrated by an agitated drifter screaming at you on the street below through the fan blades of your window unit.