Trashed noise is a staple in these parts, and Prag delivers on their demo. I know nothing about this band but the music speaks for itself (it also helps that their name is an Oz reference). This is nasty, brutish rock played by a buncha cretins who sobered up long enough to do their homework on what good garbage sounds like. Somewhere along the line-I'd place it around the emergence of all the bands that followed in the Reatards' wake-garage and punk diverged from each other. By now conditions have worsened so badly that my punk friends think I'm being too obscure when I rave about Heavy Times, and my garagescuzz friends don't bother listening to anything, like Criminal Damage, that's popular amongst hardcore types. This is, of course, despite the fact that bands like Crim Dam and the Times are sonically indistinguishable to folks who haven't devoted (wasted) their youth to this mess we call punk.
It's stupid, and someone should get to work healing the bridge between Punk and Garage (since at this point they deserve capitolization, given the sharp divergence). Prag may help us on that bridge over the River Kwai. Their sound is extremely simple, and thus effective: flailing morning star drumming, incoherently distorted gits, a bass that I'm sure is in there somewhere, and a singer who may or may not be singing in English-if it is, it's filtered through the raw Italish of bands like Negazione. "Concentrated Visuals" is the best track on this demo: a killer opening of brooding guitar and galloping bass drums, followed by vocals that sound like Tolkien's orcs. The song goes nowhere in particular; it just sorta swirls in and outta focus, like that hot girl/guy you just saw at the bar through whiskey-streaked eyes.
Prag's good at building a world of misery out of the crude instruments afforded by the garage punk sound. And fuck do those drums nail you in place, while you watch the Discharge-style guitars soar and swoop like Stukas outta da sky. Hell, the singer's so bored by the band's radness that he's whistling by song's end!
I just spent two 'graphs ranting about one song and I didn't even talk about the coolest part of the demo (it follows "Concentrated Visuals"). If I hadda name-drop, I'd say these doods passed out in the rainwater-choked gutter somewhere between early Crazy Spirit and the brazen, chest-thumping stupidity of Sick Thoughts.
Do your part in re-inventing the wheel and making peace between Punk and Garage by supporting Prag. You can do that HERE! Then do yourself a favor and BUY A COPY OF THIS TAPE!
If you hate Vaguess, you're a stupid asshole who hates rock 'n' roll. Yeah, that's right kiddies, the Drug Punk is back 'n' decked in black 'n' as full of spite as ever. If I've ever steered you wrong it's out of a sense of duty not duplicity and I do what I can to review everything that crosses my desk so if a record sucks, the following blurb is at least done in earnest (on my part, anyways)....
....anyway, you know yr gonna love it if a band's name is Vaguess. Vaguess trafficks in surf slop garage blasts of genius, laying the nostalgia on heavy, quite like the much-beloved Hunx 'n' His Punx.* Sloppy, almost-4'4'-time-rhythm section, a singer who sounds like he took two too many Valium before appearing at the studio, and a guitarist who can't decide if he's Kurt Cobain or (Germs-era) Pat Smear. Fucking righteous. The fact that the singer sounds sorta (a lot) like Keith Morris or Mike Ness just makes these tunes a thousand times better.
A more sober reviewer would go into these songs individually, analyzing and dissecting, but that just ain't my way. I'm too faded on bad beer and bad pills to do anything more competent than this heer review. All I can say is that, if you've been paying attention this long (God bless), yr gonna love this garage gloop.
*If you don't love Hunx 'n' His Punx, then you probably hate things like love and sex too. I saw these fuckerz in Portland awhile ago 'n' dude was asking for tips so he could afford to go to the gay strip club down the street. Righteous. Vaguess is pretty cool too.
"I've traveled. Everywhere you go, it's the same. The water tastes weird, the food tastes weird. You get sick. And then, when you get back...you can't figure out if it happened to you, or to somebody else"-character in Slackers
In fact I enjoy traveling, but sometimes it feels like you leave pieces of yourself in a place if you stay there too long. Anyway, here's the latest installment in my mix series. The songs just sorta feel like going home during summertime, for me, anyways.
I probably won't be posting much for the next week; go out and get a tan, get drunk and get laid instead of downloadin' music, kiddies. ...home is where we hide
1. Songs:Ohia-Farewell Transmission 2. Heavy Times-Sunside
3. Husker Du-Celebrated Summer
4. Pink Reason-Storming Heaven
5. Electrelane-To the East
6. Beach House-Used to Be
7. Dead Moon-Don't Look Back
8. Tom Waits-Downtown train
9. Joe Strummer-Let the Good Times Roll
10. Kitchen's Floor-116 (Live at Real Bad version)
11. The Mountain Goats-Distant Stations
12. Broken Water-Kamilche House
Swagger is acrucial element in all blues-based rock 'n' roll. Simply put: Can you do justice to the Son House and Blind Willie McTell riffs at the base of your sound, no matter how many effects pedals you got? Or are you hiding behind these effect pedals 'cause there's nothing worthwhile behind the distortion? Nick Cave brought this sort of bravismo to new heights with his pre-Boatman's Call work. Unfortunately, swagger and unabashedly macho posturing has gone the way of the dodo of late. Of course, nine times out of ten, macho posturing is boring at best, repulsive at worst: think of hair metal. But when done right, as an organic component of the music instead of as idiotic chest-thumping, it's a good thing.
The Janitors and San Francisco's The Chaw are two of the only contemporary bands that can pull it off. Along with Annesley's much-missed Meat Thump, these bands' heavy, sleazy vibe is perfect for sordid living of all sorts. The Janitors and The Chaw are similar in another sense: both have a heavily cinematic quality that fills out their rock 'n' roll core, and makes it more compelling after repeated listening.
Listening to the Janitors' debut LP, this cinematic feeling runs straight through the two EPs and several new tracks found therein. Heavy guitars and a prominent rhythym section are key components to their sound, but the organ and killer production create an entire world you can lose yourself in. It's a ballsy move for your vinyl debut to consist in large part of previously-released material, but the Janitors' debut EPs fit together into a whole, much like the individual bricks make up the bar you like to pass out behind, after a long bender.
"Strap Me Down" sticks in my head after repeated listening. Agonizingly, mesmerizingly slow guitar stomp; menacing organs that swirl in and out of focus; and muttered, then howled vocals that are an indecipherable but essential part of the vicious grey stew the Janitors specialize in. "A-Bow," however, is the LP's cornerstone. Clocking in at 12:29, it sums up everything fun in the Janitors' sound. The first five minutes sound like a Morricone out-take, straddling the line between spaced out rock and spaghetti western majesty. The tension finally explodes around 5:30 into heavy, drawn out classic rock riffing with enough organs to keep monotony at bay. "A-Bow" is a glorious, and gloriously ambitious, piece of blues stomp with more depth and space than most music in this tradition.
Basically, the Janitors are what would happen if the White Stripes were as good as you always wanted them to be: innovative instead of simply adept; lewd instead of gentlemanly; and, ultimately, more interested in worming their way into your brain than in temporary aural fireworks. This is slow-burn scuzz rock with a vengeance.
Check it out here. The vinyl drops July 15th, complete with a gatefold sleeve perfect for staring at when blasted on speed and acid. You can pre-order your copy from Cardinal Fuzz Records.
In case you're wondering why I stopped accepting new releases for review recently, this is a good example: it's a great record I received for review about a year and a half ago, and never listened to because it was buried in a pile of other submissions (in addition, I still pretend to have a social life while acting like an adult at times to earn a paycheck).
If you come to DrugPunk for the dirtyassrock'n'roll and loath my forays into other genres, you'll love this. Shrills is as much fun as making out in a bar bathroom after your eighth beer of the night. "Coconuts" is as sweet as the aforementioned fruit. It blatantly rips off a punk song whose title I can't think of. There's nothing complex about this band: it's just direct, unabashed garage punk that I'm pretty sure Californians were great at before they all started listening to Drake and Lady Gaga (or whatever it is my students love currently). There are moments of complexity-"Pink Hotel" veers dangerously close to Sex Church as far as guitars go-but this is mainly just straightahead garage fun. "Chthulu," however, is in a world of its own: it's six minutes of menacing, slow-motion cinematic tension that slowly segues into lurching, heavy caveman rock a la Bleach-era Nirvana. Totally makes the kids go crazy, I'm guessing.
Put quite simply, if I had gotten around to listening to this it woulda been in my Top 10 for 2011.
I dunno if any physical copies of the tape are left, but if so, BUY IT HERE!!!!
As the Valdarno heats up, a nocturnal lifestyle is becoming more and more appealing: the daytime here is so hot it's like walking into an oven when I go out to buy a beer, so the day's become night and nighttime, like Fogerty said, is the right time.
Just in time for the Tuscan summer comes this bit of spartan folk from Seattle. As on Wohl's 2012 demo, this is barebones, standalone guitar music. In many ways, the demo was a tribute to the blues and Americana influences that Wohl proudly wears on his sleeve. These two songs, however, find him starting to work out his own idiom within that tradition. His playing is thoroughly indebted to Fahey, still, but "Moonfeeder" is more measured than Fahey's spry, even effusive, plucking. The guitar is almost melancholic at times, without being heavy-handed. Wohl ends the tune with a flourish of upbeat plucking, though; an overnight train journey and not an all-night bender, perhaps, is the setting.
"Song of Impermanence" sounds like a tighter, more coherent reworking of the loose, improvised "Melatonin Blues," my favorite tune from the 2012 demo. The piece is a bit of lonesome midnight solitude crafted in a jaunty form. Around 4:21 the song soars off into ethereal heights, closing on a note of perfect, spacy elegance.
The musos among my readers will enjoy this two-song EP for the masterful guitarwork. The rest of us can get into it for the mood. Either way, give this a spin next time it's 5 am and you're too wired to sleep. Also, the cover is gorgeous and it's fun staring at it when you're stoned stupid.
Physical copies of the EP will be available in August, stay tuned.
Bricks plays heavy, bludgeon-like hardcore that smashes everything in its way much like a wrecking ball trying to clobber its way through the Great Wall of China. It ain't pretty, but it's violent and ugly, and that's most of what I look for in hardcore.
I didn't review this when it washed up in my review pile because I was mostly listening to OldSadBastardMusic like Leonard Cohen at the time. Now that spring has thawed out my inner punk geek, I dig this. Since I already panned Hoax once this week, I might as well do it again: Bricks is as heavy as Hoax without being so conscious of its own status as hardcore godheads, which makes this less self-conscious. The result is heavy, ugly hardcore that you can slam your way into oblivion to, without having to be the coolest kid in yr local scene. Throw this one on when you're so sick of Negative Approach that you can sing "Nothing" walking down the street, a cappella, in the June sunshine.
Grindcore has never been my brand of noise. It always sounded like the noise J.R.R. Tolkien's orcs would make while marching off to war, and nothing else: nihilistic parody taken to its extreme. Far be it for me to deny anyone else their preferred type of aural annihilation, though. Especially when said annihilation is coming from Siberia, of all places.
In a frozen wasteland that used to be populated by future star humanitarians like the young Josef Stalin, grindcore might actually make sense. Enter The LTP and Skverna's split. The LTP deliver several tracks of heavy hardcore that verges into noise at times ("Love Music=hate people"); they also do a snazzy cover of "Fight Back." Skverna is blistering grindcore that I find impossible to assess as music. It's blastbeats, blastbeats, and more blastbeats, with an angry, frozen troll howling over the maelstrom. This is not my cup of tea by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn't say much about it: if you like truly disgusting grindcore played by people who have a right to be as angry as most grindcore bands pretend to be, get this thing, pronto.
I'm too hungover to write a real review, so this is whatcha get instead.
A lot of these songs were included on previous installments in the "Alone & Forsaken" series, but thanks to Lemaire, those are gone, soyabigdealwhatever.
That picture's actually of the Red Dons, not the Observers, but it's more or less the same band.
It starts off big, brash, and beautiful with Broken Water but by the end it's just the same 'ole galling frustration, as expressed by Portland's Criminal Damage. Sorta like an average day in these parts.
Hopefully, my brain cells whill have regrouped enough to form coherent sentences and dash off witty commentary tomorrow. Or not.
1. Broken Water-Say What's on your mind
2. Kitchen's Floor-No Love
3. The Observers-Walk Alone
4. Royal Headache-Girls
5. Wild Moth-Morning Sickness
6. Dead Moon-My Escape
7. Negative Approach-Nothing
8. Husker Du-59 Times the Pain
9. Jawbreaker-Ashtray Monument
10. Heavy Times-Alone
11. Buzzcocks-What do I get?
12. Wipers-Romeo
13. The Repos-Half a Hole
14. Government Warning-Self Destruct
15. Criminal Damage-No Solution
It's that time 'o' year when it's so hot out that all you really wanna do is curl up pool- or porchside with a cold one and watch the world pass ya by.
On the offchance that, unlike me, you're in an energetic mood, here's some preemo-primo garage misery guaranteed to put a spring in yr strut if you ever get off that porch to go buy another sixer.
1. Royal Headache-Eloise
2. Brilliant Colors-I'm Sixteen
3. Heavy Times-You need a different life
4. Kitchen's Floor-116
5. X (Australia!)-Fuckin' Rockin'
6. Raspberry Bulbs-I Will Not Pretend
7. The Feeling of Love-I'm nothing but a drunk pussy
8. Tyvek-Mary Ellen Claims
9. The Brat-Leave Me Alone
10. Canadian Rifle-Cinder Block
11. Government Warning-Self Destruct
12. Raw Nerve-Dating Problems
Have I mentioned lately how Heavy Times is my favoritest band from Chicago of late? If not, mea culpa, 'cause these doods shred in a way we haven't heard much of late late. Infectious, scratchy guitar riffs, dirt-simple riddim, and relatable tales of love, loss, and druggy tomfoolery 'round the city. Who can't relate, i ask thee?
Anyways, this was the first thing I heard by Heavy Times and, in lieu of gathering enough energy to critique something new, it's what I'm closing out June with. "Teenage Animals" opens with a killer, chanted "aaahhhooohaaaa" and doesn't get much more sophisticated than that-minor note guitar solos, hollered vocals, and that's all she wrote. "Stoned in the City" is the story of my life from ages 16-22: the sun's out, I've got some dope, gonna bike around Chicago lookin' for dat broad I saw the other day at some crappy noise show. Hell, I even have some beer to share, and sweet little nothings to whisper in her ear. Stoned in the city, dontchaknow?
"Good Looker" is the heart 'n' soul o dis tape. It opens with what sounds like drums played on empty paint buckets, more hollered, non-verbal chants, and single-note guitar majesty. The tale is totally something I'm familiar with: guy likes girl. Girl is way cooler than guy. Girl, in fact, does all sorts 'o' weird drugs dude is scared of. "She's a real tough chick with a bad attitude/coke 'n' grooves..." More importantly, "she stole my heart and there's nothing I can do/I feel abused, I feel abused..." Much of my time in several European and American metropoli have consisted of this very same feeling.
Whereas the vocals are slurred or mixed so low they're incoherent on most Heavy Times tracks, on "Good Looker" they're front 'n' center as they should be. Flip the gendered pronouns and anyone can relate to this song (well, if you're between the ages of 15-35, listen to rock 'n' roll, and do drugs, anyways-i.e., all my readership), so motherfuckers should be blasting it come August when the coke is flowing like rivers down yer crinkled doller bills and all ya cares about is more booze 'n' pills, y'dig? Priceless tunes, I tells yeh. If I were inclined to fall in love, this song would be on the mixtape I'd make for the (un)lucky lady.
"Night Swim" is a bit more plodding, clomping along as we're regaled with, uh, I think a tale of swimming at night. The epically simple guitar is what sets this tune apart, and keeps me putting this track on mixtapes I mean to make for girls I talk to in bars, but whose numbers I forget to write down...anyway, "Night Swim" features more majestic, minimal, lofi guitar madness and it's great.
Heavy Times is at the top of their game, and if yer in Chicago, you're n idiot for not having seen them already. Out of towners can be excused.
Download "Fast Nights" here. Check out a video for "Good Looker" here. The band has a new LP out on Hozac Records, BUY IT!
Brutality and the Solar Anus: An Introduction to the Slay Area's New Wave of Crusty Death Metal
Today's NSITB is more of an essay...an essay about a dark conspiracy currently making, and shaking, the foundations of DiY metal in the Bay Area. Over the last couple years there has been a profusion of foul, disgusting, brutal death metal being made here. The sinister kabal behind these goings-on is a collection of bands...bands linked by overt and covert interlocking directorates of brutality-bound weirdos.
So, I couldn't figure out what to put here and decided to look on fuckyeahmetalpunks.tumblr.com. I came up with this.
As someone who grew up in the 'burbs of the Midwest before finding my way to the Slay Area, I had come to associate the term “death metal” with kids pathetically attempting to imitate At The Gates and then going into a moshXcore breakdown part when they got too tired [in the interest of full disclosure: I was in just such a band at one point]. Or that fucking Black Dhalia Murder worshipping suburbo-tech garbage.
This batch of bands, however, has put their collective, boot-clad foot down, infusing their music with the sonic grit, extremism and fury pioneered by bands like Grave, Axegrinder, Bolt Thrower, and Autopsy. Though largely made in recent months, this music is fundamentally a product of the 1980s/ early '90s. These bands have geography and, in many cases, members in common, but the style they can be loosely said to share is what has made this scene particularly exciting. The bands they draw from as key influences can, roughly, be said to have been active in particular scenes at particular times when the lines between metal and punk were being radically challenged. Through the 80's and 90's punks in the UK, Scandinavia, Brazil, Japan, the US, etc. were increasingly turning towards death and doom metal for a new source of sonic brutality. Simultaneously, more adventurous metalheads sought to bring punk's speed, raw energy, and gnarly production to metal's...well...heaviness. By reaching back to this "common ancestor" in musical evolution, these bands have loudly hailed a new infusion of energy into ominous, crusty death metal.
Probably the best-known of these bands is Acephalix. These dudes have been releasing shit since 2007 and are one of those bands who it's a true pleasure to see evolve. The Acephalix of 2010 and before was an absolutely ruthless crust-machine, taking from the best of the European and Japanese traditions to create a musical corpus that sent spike-vested kids around the pit so fast it looked like a human disco ball. But, by the 2010 release of Aporia, the band's first, and thus far only, LP, changes were already brewing.
As Aporia joined the band's 7'' and demo recordings in drawing out the saliva of brutal crust fans the world over, Acephalix was undergoing a radical transformation. The band's self-reinvention was announced through the 2010 release of the Interminable Night tape on Deific Mourning, the label run by Dan, vocalist of Acephalix and Vastum. This tape, and the followup Flesh Torn in Twilight, solidified Acephalix as, perhaps above all else, being a brutal fucking death metal band. Indicatively, while venerable Bay Area crustitution Prank Records released their LP alongside the likes of Martyrdod and Sl(A)ng, Acephalix's two most recent tapes were recently pressed to vinyl by Greg Anderson's Southern Lord under the moniker Interminable Night.
It's a real testament to the skill behind Acephalix that the band was able to make such a dramatic transition so seamlessly. They're playing metal, but they came to it through being an amazing crust band, a fact that makes itself plain at first listen to the band's newer material. Impossibly heavy, so sonically filthy it leaves a residue in your ears, these are dramatic documents of the metal demon gaining the upper hand in its brawl with the punk/crust demon within Acephalix. But still, they remain locked in an unending battle whose product is the band itself. Combined with their thematic obsession with Bataille and the Id-embracing “dark side” of the psychoanalytic legacy, this band has proved itself unstoppable. If anyone opened up a Christ Hole big enough to stuff a bunch MORE awesome bands through, it was probably these guys.
Acephalix gettin' rowdy at Oakland's venerable Hazmat warehouse (RIP).
A more recent outgrowth of Acephalix has been Vastum. Basically this band is ¾ of Acephalix plus a new guitarist whose pedigree includes time served in Hammers of Misfortune and Saros. The result is predictably awesome: a death metal band so total and deliberate in its destruction that their sole release has put them on the radar as one of the country's most exciting underground metal bands. While decidedly within the death metal camp, Vastum includes more slow, thematic elements that give them a strong doomish overtone. The result is utter sonic punishment, music that's so heavy you feel the hits in your ribs but, not unlike Acephalix, catchy enough to drive you to the edges of sanity. The combination of doom's anticipation-unto-brutalization procedure with some of the most memorable metal riffs I've heard in the past year is not to be trifled with...their tape Carnal Law is one of the most evocative heavy metal releases I've ever had the pleasure of listening to. It unabashedly delivers on promises of brutality too easily made and broken by lesser bands. Seriously, this will wreck you.
I couldn't find any good live videos of Vastum, but this song has got to be one of the finest DM tracks I've had the pleasure of listening to...again, and again, and again, and...
The last few months has seen an outgrowth of new death metal bands in the Bay that share Acephalix and Vastum's dedication to bringing the most base and disgusting possibilities of the genre forward. San Jose's Bruxers are certainly amongst this number, quickly becoming a known and respected quantity in the Bay Area's metal underground, laying waste to crowd after crowd with crusty, Bolt Thrower-lovin' death metal. The brutal attack only lets up to open the way for crushing, mournful doom that makes the band's expansive sound complete. Youtube videos of this band are alot easier to come by than recordings right now, but that's about to change. The band is slated to release a cassette of new material on Deific Mourning as well as a cassette recording of their live set on Foothill College's KJFC that is coming out on Gay Scientist Recordings. Slay tuned.
Bruxers blasting their way through Muerte at Oakland's First Church of the Buzzard. This was part of their set of the first-ever Deadfest, an extravaganza of local yokels and other trve bvds spearheaded by Gregg Deadface.
Even more mysterious than Bruxers is the band Caffa. At this point, their public presence has been theoretical aside from one (awesome) show and the practice space video below. Here's what we do know: they have a vast arsenal of Medieval weaponry, some of which they deign to display live to the masses. The band is a supergroup of sorts, composed of the members of such local outfits as Your Enemy, DHC, Connoisseur, Swamp Witch and Bruxers who currently reside in castles. This is important to the mission of the band, which is dedicated to the promotion and perfection of Castle Warfare as both a strategic/tactical practice and a lifestyle. Due to the low castle-density in the Bay right now, this makes it hard for them to play very much. The video below, from the rehearsal dungeon at one of their imposing fortresses, is the most up-to-date document of goings-on with the band...
Fingers Crvst that 2012 will bring even more apocalyptic awesomeness with it!
Back when I was a teenage wasteoid punkrocker, I hated classic rock, to the point of yelling at friends who liked Led Zeppelin when we'd get drunk. But with age comes wisdom, they say, or in any case maybe more self-consciousness. Somewhere around 20, when I started smoking weed, I decided Neil Young was a'ight, and since then I've even been known to countenace "Immigrant Song" on the jukebox.
Enter Seattle's Mystery Ship, a buncha dudes blasting out unpretentious good times rock. What immediately leaps out at you when the needle drops is the watertight song construction: the guitars are perfectly in tandem, the vocals phrased just right, and the rhythm section is solid (Travis'* drumwork demonstrating just how important tight drumming is to a band's overall sound).
"Lady from Alexandria" is built around a massive guitar lead and lockstep drumming, with Alex singing about, uh, scientists, I think...they are called Mystery Ship, after all. It's the guitars that set this apart, with the bridges worthy of Sabbath.
"Medusa" is more heavy rock, swaggering along while Alex completely nails the Neil Young tone. "Wide Eyed Girl" is my favorite song here: a driving, old-time rock 'n' roll raveup perfect for arrhythmically dancing around your room in an alcoholic daze, while "King Frong Blues" goes in for heavily baked electric blues.
Most of the music I listen to doesn't come close to the production quality and songwriting capabilities of this EP, which is all the more impressive since it's a DIY release.
Check out Mystery Ship if you're in the Northwest; if not, listen to EP, and get a copy, here!
*Apologies to Travis for originally calling him Tripp. Whoops.
Whenever possible, I'm gonna end every mix themed around crushes with a Raincoats song.
1. Heavy Times-Good Looker
2. The Brat-Swift Moves
3. The Vaselines-Rory Rides me Raw
4. Bass Drum of Death-I Could Never be Your Man
5. Ramones-I Wanna be your Boyfriend
6. Dead Moon-Can't Help Falling in Love
7. Elvis Costello-Sneaky Feelings
8. (Young) Pioneers-Port Authority Goodbyes
9. Jawbreaker-Do You Still Hate Me?
10. Husker Du-Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill
11. Black Tambourine-For Ex-Lovers Only
12. Electralane-The Greater Times
13. Beach House-Gila
14. The Raincoats-In Love
I'm mostly familiar with Ann Arbor/Ypsilanti, MI's noise scene, but apparently wolverines can bang out garage just as well as sadistic drone.
From the opening, trilling guitar notes to the humming "oooo"s of the close out, this 7" is note-perfect garage rock in the great tradition of ? & the Mysterians. The first track is ultra-lo-fi, hum-worthy pop that coulda been recorded in a Seattle garage ca. 1964. "All Over Now" frames pretty, throwaway female vocals with a romping big beat and surf guitar, while the vocals for "So Long Sam" are a perfect recreation of the snarling, snide tone popularized by Mssrs. Jagger, Burdon, et. al.
This is one of the funnest records I've heard recently, and I highly recommend you pick it up via Bad Indians' bandcamp page. The Indians are playing in Chicago, next Saturday (Feb. 4th), with Heavy Times at a "secret" loft, the address of which is 1542 Milwaukee Ave. GO!
I'm reposting this from the tinygrooves blog, which you should check out, if you haven't already.
This blog isn't exactly famous for hosting texture-heavy music. I'll usually side with a sledgehammer over a rapier for good times. So this three-tune EP by Philly's Acid Kicks threw me for a curve: the production's amazing, and the music actually expands and contracts, although the structures are basically PR-level simple.
Acid Kicks specialize in carving out grooves so heavy, they might be chiseled out of the Mines of Moria. While the three bass guitars respectively sculpt, reinforce, and clobber home the ambience, the drums set up a kraut rock-style beat that wends and winds through space. The breezy trumpets that pop in and out of each track reinforce the heavily-drugged, magic carpet ride feel of the tunes.
I'd like to see the Kicks live, as I can't tell how much of this EP's sound is due to the stellar production, or the band itself. Either way, this is some heavy, blissfully zonked out stuff, and I look forward to more of it.
Check it out on Band Camp. The 7" is well worth purchasing, as the cover is gorgeous: on a par with Do Make Say Think, aesthetically.
Boyhowdy, boppers, is this a departure from the Priority Male Rex cassette I reviewed back in June, Sick Listens!
Whereas said cassette was a freeform jumble of tunes, "Dead" is a fucking statement. Starting out with the wicked bad raditude of "Welcome to the Graveyard," the Times immediately lurch into a different key with the lite crooner "Poison Ivy". The LP grooves its way towards the epic freakout jam of "Dead Lake," where all of Heavy Times' druggy brilliance is on display.
Shit is fuckin' crucial, man. Perfect for sex on a mixture of Valium and Adderal. Totally. ...she ain't no human being! "Dead" is still available from Permanent Records. Look out for a new Heavy Times LP in the near future-pop over to Tiny Grooves for a preview.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't spend a good amount of time last week smoking weed on couches. Some of this quality herb time was accompanied by an unheralded masterpiece of modern avant garde cinema...if you don't know what I'm talking about, that's your problem, Teacher Teacher!
In this era of instant access, Chicago's music scene has managed to retain its insularity largely intact. Internally, the North and the South (Sides, that is) have never really understood each other, there's not a punk scene but rather several bickering micro-scenes, and everyone talks tall shit about the SAIC kids while still attending their parties, stealing their beer, and ripping off their bands.
Where does Heavy Times enter into this? To a non-Chicagoan, they'll probably sound like they came from Timbuktu, while many Chicagoans probably dismiss them as "too [SAT adjective goes here]." "Sick Listens," another fine Prio Male chartbuster, isn't a coherent statement, like their LP, but a collection of musical sketches, which makes sense, this being a collection spanning five years. It works well: just when you've pegged Heavy Times as an intentionally retarded neo-Phil Spector project, they switch into something the Pitchfork dweebs might like, yet there's a unified undertone to "Sick Listens." It's consistently pleasant, without being coy or boring.
This is perfect music for cruising down LSD one fine June evening in a stoned haze, en route to your favorite basement venue or hole-in-the-wall dive bar. Pop this in the cassette deck (er, twirl your ipod), groove to the hooks, and glory in being from Chicago! I.e., talk as much shit as you like about those assholes you've never met who run that shitty venue two blocks away you've never been to! Right on!
After that, pop over to Priority Male and pick up the real deal-doods this talented really shouldn't be drinking tall boys 'o' Old Style.
*Edit, 6.29.12: The download link is fixed, and should work. Lemme know if it don't.*
*Edit, 12.13.13: Re'upped the file again, so get it here.*
*Edit, 8.3.12: I re-upped the file; you can now get it here.*
Those of you who were hangin' round in Chicago in the mid-'00s are probably familiar with the '77 Street Punks, a bunch of white-denim rockin' dweebs who took Sid Vicious/Johnny Thunders worship to extremes only attainable by kids who grew up in subdivisions. Having to worry about getting jumped by these morons whenever I went out 'cause I liked Crass definitely turned me off to the Noow Yawk, junkie blooz side of punk that these louts venerated, and I only recently started coming around to this stuff (The music, that is. Junkies are fucking horrible creatures. If you don't believe me, try going for a walk at 11 pm in my neighborhood).
Enter the Contaminators, a Bakersfield, CA duo who bashed out some pretty sweet riffage ca. 2007-'09. The recording quality is so shitty on this thing, the first time I heard it I wasn't sure there was any drumming on the first track-the vocal and guitar tracks are blown through the fucking ceiling. Don't let that stop you, though. These guys had the swaggering petulance of Mssrs. Johansen, Bators, et. al. down to a "T" as in "Thunders." The song titles tell you what you're in for: "Human Mess," "Closet Junkie," "Sick Fixation." So if you're down in the dumps of the sort that require glorious two-note solos as accompaniment, pop on the Contaminators and nod out.
I think this is still available from Blackwater.
Up next: some Heavy Times, Raincoats, and a few surprises. Mebbe.
