Dusted Features In the long-awaited return of Still Single, Doug Mosurock and Co. cover more than 150 records, including new music from Balaclavas, El Jesus De Magico, Ty Segall, Shoppers and Slices. Tweet

Still Single: Vol. 8, No. 2

This is my last Still Single as “not a father.” After this one I will be a father to a tiny baby, and will be treating this work accordingly. Look for a bunch of guests and regular columnists filling in over the summer in addition to my own reviews.

-- DM

Adolf Butler
Holland LP
(Motorwolf)

Kooky noise rock band from the Netherlands that seems to have cleaned up its misanthropy, or at least has found sensible ways to obscure it so that those of us with souls can enjoy the heat they throw without consequence. They really do nail the bloody smear of early Unsane and Slug records with little problem, and even find ways to remove the groove from oldies like “Green Onions” and the Animals’ “It’s My Life” to make them as plodding and eyebrow-scorching as the situation warrants. Was talking to Still Single correspondent Joe Gross the other day, when he told me that he isn’t particular when it comes to noise rock. I’d say not being particular about a band that flies this banner is just about what’s expected, so long as both “noise” and “rock” are doled out in generous heaps, which is what’s going on here. Nothing I’d reach for every day (would leave that to the Cherubs) but it’s a decent example that stays pure and true to the giant butthole in the sky that produced such a shitstorm in the first place. To top off the strangeness, their drummer is an auxiliary member of Madball when that band tours Europe. 300 copies (100 orange, 200 black), on a label that seems to have forgotten about their website. (http://www.motorwolf.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Amateur Childbirth
Brighter Futures Dialysis LP
(Wetnurse Directory)

Speedstrum antifolk from Brisbane’s Ivan Hicks, akin to ordering the red pepper hummus enema for two at the Sidewalk Café. The artist’s note that came with the record claim that this album came from a passing fascination with a cheap acoustic guitar. Everything about these ten songs relates to that statement: the music seems entirely off-the-cuff, from the consistent, rubber-wristed rhythm across each track to Hicks’ stream-of-consciousness speak/sing spiels, to the song titles themselves (“Cat Power’s Armpits” stands out). If you have a need for a new amateur folk Benzedrine downer, with a lot of rough edges, here’s your record. 300 copies. (http://www.wetnursedirectory.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Apache Dropout/3 Man Band
split 7”
(Glory Hole)

Record Store Day release. 3 Man Band sent in a tape that was pretty raging, and was arguably the best first 90 seconds of any review tape ever presented in this direction, and even though it cooled down a bit afterwards, it remains a good, hard slap of hard rock, garage and psych moves being bound together in Knoxville, TN even as I write this. Their jam is called “Owsley (In Theory And Practice)” and it’s a good, trippy dirtbomb of solid drumming and wild man moves. Also an old friend of mine is in the band, and it’s good to see her rockin’ with authority. Apache Dropout drops another little amuse bouche before their second album comes out this year on Trouble In Mind. “Soul Sucker” isn’t one of their best, but it’s a split 7” that you’re gonna have to look for to find, who the fuck cares, this band rules. I don’t make exceptions for too many bands but Apache Dropout is fucking monstrous. Limited edition, on various colors of vinyl.
(Doug Mosurock)

Archers By The Sea
They Were Floating Over The Mountain, They Were Kings 12” EP
(La Station Radar)

So if the Euro Zone erodes further, and there isn’t any grant money left to fund every last post-rock paean to Sigur Ros or late-period Talk Talk that pops up between small groups of disenfranchised post-collegiate citizens, does that mean that bands like Archers By The Sea are going to be making this sort of vague, atmospheric downer bullshit on their own volition? This could play out to a League Of Their Own-type scenario, but with womens’ baseball transposed with chin-stroking, contemplative drone crud, sitting out for the duration. And that’s cool, so long as these sort of records stop happening (which I fear will not be the case). When you have like 150 LPs to sort through, and a significant percentage of them are just like this, your perspective on the content changes. This isn’t a critical observation so much as the law of ordinal wackness falling into place. Today just ain’t your day, is it? (http://www.lastationradar.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Art Institute
People Like It When You Fail LP
(Artificial Head)

Accompanying this one was a desperate note for attention. So here you go: don’t pay any of yours to this band. Doing so would be a regrettable waste of time. There will come a point in your life where you have about 20 minutes left on Earth, and if you spent any of it thinking about this awful record, you will regret it. I am speaking from experience – 20 minutes was all I could take. Houston band here, never connecting on any of their ideas, the Kermit-the-Modern Lover style lead vocalist talk-crooning over a LAME smattering of skinny tie New Wave tropes and hilariously off-center takes on an urbane, Roxy Music type approach, written by people who can’t spell the word profundity and therefore avoid it entirely. I can think of a lot of examples where a band gets the “real people” vibe down cold, because they are real people, and they treated their music as a potential pathway to something more out of life. Art Institute abuses its privilege in a callous and disinterested fashion, the mark of charlatans who realize this band isn’t going anywhere, and they will drift off to do something else, always just a little dejected and angry at the world for not laughing at their joke, and on some days more so. The “Art” half of the band’s name is so painful, so overwrought, the sound of every open-collared shitty band from the ‘80s who put out some mysterious private press LP and just sucks to high heaven. The only difference between this, and a box of some wasteoid’s life savings propping up a mattress, is that there’s a Raymond Pettibon drawing on the front cover, which will forever attract the attention of people associating his artwork with Black Flag’s, and picking this record up on the odd chance that it’ll rage. It won’t. Cut the picture out and throw the rest away, then go listen to Jade Stone & Luv. (http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/artinstitute555/people-like-it-when-you-fail-a-record-by-art-insti)
(Doug Mosurock)

Astral Social Club/Tomutonttu
split 12”
(Tipped Bowler Tapes)

Astral Social Club (Neil Campbell’s long-running “techno” project) is like opening your computer and finding a tiny, simple-minded rave going on inside. Tomutonttu (long-running Finnish electro-weirdness concern) is like opening your computer and finding thousands of little prismatic digital ants vibing the full spectrum of color. Both of these concepts are worth experiencing at least once, and this uneasy-looking, green/purple silkscreened nightmare is a great way to get enough of either to know if you should continue. 250 copies, sold out. (http://www.tippedbowler.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Avengers
We Are The One 7” EP
“Paint It Black” b/w “Thin White Line” 7”
“Teenage Rebel” b/w “Friends Of Mine” 7” (Superior Viaduct)

RECOMMENDED

Shouldn’t have to sell any of you on these. Like the “Avengers” movie that just came out, the truth of this band cannot be avoided. If you don’t have the originals, this is a good way to cover your ass until you can scrape up enough cash to get ‘em. Essential, quasi-feminist, totally tough/hard/oppositional punk rock from San Francisco ‘77 and up. You shouldn’t be having to learn about this band from a blog that reviews Pink Noise records; the Avengers are still in the groundwater for the young person looking for punk as a means of social change and revolution. And what punk records these are! When’s the last time you heard “We Are The One”? Do you remember every single part of that song the way I do? How many other songs can you say that about? Can you think of anything more righteous than “Teenage Rebel”??? These cost a steep $12 apiece, but in the context of their original formats these are totally worth getting. I can show you a lot of records that cost more than $12 that are nowhere near as good as these. Colored vinyl on each, too, for the Record Store Day 2012 editions (new black vinyl pressings of all three are out later this month, perhaps at a more reasonable price point … but I understand what it costs to make records happen and reward those who made the music). (http://www.superiorviaduct.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Baby Erection
s/t 7” EP
(self-released)

The slip of paper accompanying this promo notes that this outfit “is Brooklyn-based.” I am not sure what this is supposed to mean, other than to imply a quality that doesn’t come across, and a hip cosmopolitanism that a band with a name like Baby Erection shouldn’t logically be concerned with anyhow. What’s more, we get a silly “Dear Consumer” note that comes off more as smug and self-important than self-effacing, promising that “the first 45 rpm record of Baby Erection is sure to delight the hearts and minds of man and woman alike.” Alright already. Assume for a moment that the band themselves actually does think that this record sucks and this is all some kind of big in-joke where the punchline is your hard-earned four dollars. Infuriating, and maybe that, too, is the point. The cheap and tinny guitar scratch of “Lon Chaney Blues,” along with its annoyingly screeched/bellowed first-take vocals indeed make one wonder if this record shouldn’t be filed under “comedy.” Otherwise, we teeter dangerously over the psychobilly border, and we all know there’s nothing good there. “Baby Erection Boogie” is an instrumental piss-take on “Stray Cat Strut,” its remedial blues form predictably switching midway to surf-rock and never reaching “lo-fi crazy rock” critical mass. As noted on aforementioned slip, recorded on a four-track and perhaps Baby should have been left to gestate a little more before getting the vinyl treatment. (http://babyerection.bandcamp.com)
(Adam MacGregor)

Bad Fate
“Lung” b/w “Between the Corners” 7”
(The Broadway to Boundary)

Saddled with dismal releases by Heavy Chains and Basketball, Vancouver label Broadway to Boundary does right by sticking to a formula: shifty, tuneful/atuneful translucent indie/pop riffage in the style of Versus, or, like, some band on Up Records from the late ‘90s that wasn’t Modest Mouse or Built to Spill. Both “Lung” and “Between the Corners” feature jangling guitars, an overall instrumental competence, tightly-matted rock interplay, and elliptical lyrics that don’t say much but sound pretty while they’re on. This sort of thing is just fine, and there’s gotta be a little bit of demand for a solid band like this to build its audience. If it ain’t broke … but if it IS broke, y’know, maybe don’t release it. Live longer. P.S. How are there no images of this record anywhere on the Internet? Get it together. (http://www.thebroadwaytoboundary.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Balaclavas
Second Sight one-sided 12” EP
(Dull Knife)

RECOMMENDED

Cut in a hurry for their spring tour (if you’re reading this and it’s March 2012, they’re out right now, and playing Brooklyn at Lone Wolf Bar in Bushwick today, the 29^th), these are the Balaclavas songs that those few of you who fell asleep to Snake People were looking for, and the rest of us can merely chalk this four-song sesh up as their most direct offering to date. The dub bass thing is still a part of this (closer “Moon Roof” brings in the familiar synths and drum machine from some of their earlier releases, as well as a mid-period Cure fetish I didn’t see coming) but in full-bore dark rock mode, these guys rip it hard, like Chokebore reinterpreting the VSS, calming down the nervous circuits with a Biblical sense of howlin’ hellfire and hopelessness. “Second Sight” is the first and fastest, and each subsequent track gets deeper and darker in varying shades until we are deposited at the end of the night, debauched and marked between the eyes with the sign of the beast. These guys don’t make records too often so it’s great that they can balance out their ambition with something so deliberate. Tuesday night they were a screaming ball of corrosion, and tonight it’ll probably be a different show entirely. 500 copies, clear vinyl and silkscreened B-side/poly sleeve, looks nice. (http://www.dullknifelabel.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Black Bug
Police Helicopter 7” EP
(Hozac)

RECOMMENDED

So you’re getting a twofer here. As no speed setting is indicated, we’re left to speculate as to Black Bug’s aesthetic, which – intentional or not – works out to be a real bonus for those inclined toward participatory listening. At 33 1/3, you’re treated to three woozy and sick, chopped-and-screwed nightsweats that would and should be best enjoyed with the spuriously obtained CNS depressant of your choice. “Shard of Glass,” erects a somber monolith with some serious coldwave countermelodies offsetting the crush of filtered bass synth. An even more potent downer we have in “Machine,” wherein disembodied, delay-swathed vocals that drift wraithlike over an unrelenting drumcomputer and a cone-rattling analog bass scuzz that seems to burrow into the floor. One terrifying line of synthesized speech serves as the vocal for the otherwise instrumental B-side, “Police Helicopters,” which offers no reprieve despite its cowbell-accented beat. The same sawtooth bass synth patch appears (and frankly, would start to get a little gimmicky were it not for the catchiness of the riff), though here it anchors a recurring lead synth hook that wobbles in and out of key like some ‘80s Jan Hammer action-theme cassette that was left to melt in the sun. A spin at 45 rpm instantly lifts much of the program’s sinister pall, suggesting the quirky insistence of Dark Day or a more period-accurate rendering of some of the jams from that Cold Waves and Minimal Electronics comp from a few years back. While not necessarily adding anything new to the ever-expanding canon of cold/chillwave/witchypoo house, Black Bug’s penchant for keeping it brief, spare and extremely fucking dismal pays off in dividends. Packaging is likewise pretty bare bones: a creepy cover photo and no credits to speak of. (http://www.hozacrecords.com)
(Adam MacGregor)

Black Marble
Weight Against the Door 12” EP
(Hardly Art)

Putting this one on blind, it is very difficult to know what to expect from the opening synth phrasing of “Pretender” – there’s no clue as to production choices, though it sounds muted enough that it would hopefully match up with the new L.I.E.S. releases I was working through before I unwrapped this Brooklyn duo’s EP. Within moments I learned my fate: Blank Doggin’ into the niiiiiiight. But this isn’t so bad, or at least not as ridiculous; the Doggin’ aspects come mostly from the presentation (which thankfully points to the moment before that moment burned itself out, ca. those first few EPs), but the music mitigates a narrower path, stonewalled by Ian Curtis/Stephen Merritt vocals of disinterest, and cold, inward-facing songs of pre-programmed synth/drum tracks and occasional, sparse guitar and bass. Everything about these five songs is filtered to a very specific endpoint, and to survive, Black Marble is going to have to learn how to move beyond this to become more than faithful re-creations of fond memories past, but since Silk Flowers aren’t around anymore, there may be a little more room for these guys. I’ll bet all their gear could fit into the trunk of a NYC taxi. Good for them. (http://www.hardlyart.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Blimp
Not Beer one-sided 12” EP
(Violet Times)

Beefheart and Clevo-proto-punk comparisons abound but this conjures up a distinct memory (not that those aforementioned references constitute any real-time memories for me…I’m not that fucking old) of 10 to 15 years ago when I had a record-listening partner that would always try to turn me onto disparate but personally-insufferable crap like The Bonzo Dog Band, “early” Little Feat, The Band and, I hate to confess it, The Gizmos. This always ended in me catching shit for responding with deafening indifference. The Blimp hail from Portland but that doesn’t matter anymore as it informs nothing at this point in musical history. Their sound is, in agreement with the bio info, very much like the proto AND post-punk out of Cleveland in the late ‘70s … or rather, the stuff that, no matter how hard I tried for appearances and to quell the fear that I was missing out on something, just wouldn’t sink in and take hold the way it seemed to with every other nimrod in my immediate circle of losers. The saturation of QUIRK in this throwback punk-garage stomp and the obvious abuse of non-rock instrumentation isn’t helping to clot the already festering wound opened up when astute listens revealed exactly zero decent hooks within miles of this thing. Could have come out at any point in the last 20 years, and while that can be a good thing, it can also be the opposite. At this juncture, I will cease to explain the obvious. (http://www.facebook.com/violet.times)
(Andrew Earles)

The Boston Strangler
Primitive LP
(Fun With Smack)

RECOMMENDED

Wow, where to begin? I mean obviously this is a great record, but for whatever reason it’s become so much more. So much more that some people are losing the ability to put together a coherent thought about it, when what “it” is, is just a perfectly-executed Boston hardcore record, made by guys who’ve been holding major strands of that city’s punk/HC/rock scenes together for the past decade (if I got paid to write this shit, and wanted to push my word count, I’d list all of the bands these five guys have in their amalgamated history, but you’re smart enough that I don’t need to, and if you need to be told, this record might not be for you). There’s a lot to be said for pure statements, particularly ones this clear-cut; we’re not looking at formula here so much as another notch on the practice space wall from people who don’t make anything but quality. Lyrics aren’t too much of a surprise, but this thing holds together so well, ratchets up when it needs to, fires off totally out of control moments with the very model of controlled precision, particularly in DFJ’s drumming. What else do you expect from edge men? You look at a song like “Overcrowded” and realize that to be part of the thing they belong to, you have to contribute, but that’s a lesson you only learn by participating rather than being spectators, and having someone scream at you about how you don’t belong there is the most direct way at explaining why. This is probably more than anyone’s written about the music on Primitive so far, and there is a lot more to discuss: the jokey subversion of Fascist iconography in the band’s logo, which lampoons the conservatism that’s nudged up to bands like this in the past; the notion that Boston could turn its HC scene into a national league, and have the Strangler battle Rival Mob in the playoffs if not for DFJ having to play on both teams; the concept that a number of the people who bought this LP had to clear out the rest of Fun With Smack’s (fully worthwhile) back catalog in order to obtain it. It’s also a record that’s become instantly speculative, released in a way that made it hard for people not paying attention to obtain, and policed to the point where eBay grip-and-flippers were named and shamed, and bids artificially inflated beyond the $500 mark (those copies for $90 on Discogs should stay there, as an identical and easier-to-obtain repress is on its way). If only all insta-bonzers were this solid. (no website; this thing is everywhere on the Internet and yet nowhere)
(Doug Mosurock)

Brainworlds/Plosive
split 12” EP
(These Are Not Records)

Weird incubator label puts out a split drone record and who are we to take it lying down? Both Brainworlds and Plosive are alter egos of musicians caught in the gears of blog hype – the former is cornhusker guitarist Mason Brown, who’s played with bands like Tilly and the Fucking Wall; the latter is a dude from Kentucky “known for his remix work” (hey, they’re just sayin’ … jeez!). Both projects get the sound right, with a good amount of room and believable tone shaping (and what I’d assume are a shitload of effects filtering Brown’s guitar to make it sound like a synth), but the ideas they express in this state have long since dried up. Anyone who’s heard Eno’s Discreet Music has already heard the Brainworlds side of this, and if they’ve read the back cover of Discreet Music then they’ve learned more about process than anyone involved with this record will likely ever understand. Plosive … can’t even muster … nah, it’s nothing. Synth nothings. Come on. 250 exclusive copies. (http://www.thesearenotrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Brown Sugar
Sings of Birds and Racism LP
(Feeble Minds/Feral Kid)

From Buffalo comes some sturdy punk-n-roll from a gravel-throated singer and a band that’s not unfamiliar with hardcore and speed, but who will slow it down to a respectable mid-tempo mosh beat for you to get loose by. The eight songs here come and go (mostly go), and while not much stayed with me (apart from some chugging choruses, and a breakdown on the final track “I Want To Be a Somali Pirate” lifted straight from Pink Floyd. This is rockin’, maybe a little more raw and less expansive than recent Fucked Up records, but in the same lane. Since their sonic footprint is established from the first chord, not a lot changes in their sound, and even at eight short songs, some listeners are going to get lost in the sameness of the endeavor. Then again, some won’t. Just hope you like saxophone – there’s some on just about every track, but thankfully it’s not intrusive. This is Brown Sugar, not Morphine. (http://feebleminds.bigcartel.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Sandy Bull & The Rhythm Ace
Live 1976 LP
(Galactic Zoo Disk/Drag City)

If a musician ever needed his own personal Marshall Plan, it was Sandy Bull. The brilliant conception and execution of his 60s LPs on Vanguard, which merged Nubian and Brazilian music, gospel, jazz, Chuck Berry, and Carmen fucking Burana (on a banjo!) into a gorgeous, globe-hugging haze was matched by the disastrousness of his personal life. He crashed, he burned, and he cleaned up, but by the time he did so no one wanted to put out his records. The fellow sure could have used someone to rebuild those burnt bridges, but it wasn’t to be, so he became a family man instead.

The tape that turned into Live 1976 spent three and a half decades languishing in the family archive until one of Bull’s kids laid it on Plastic Crimewave Sound. That act inevitably led to this LP, which confirms that while Bull wasn’t quite issue-free, he still had a lot of what made him great in the first place, as well as a couple talents not evident on those earlier albums. The record starts strong with “Oud,” a showcase for Bull’s talents on the Middle Eastern lute, which twines a splendid modal melody with the bubbly sputter of his new toy, a drum machine. Bull had already experimented with backing recordings in the ‘60s, and the plug-in drummer must have appealed mightily to a guy with a knack for alienating business associates. He sure sounds pleased with it during the product demonstration that follows, and his affection is infectious enough that I’ve been playing the silly thing over and over. The rest of the side is marred with minor sound glitches and one major problem – he sings. Bull’s intonation is wobbly, his writing appallingly hackneyed, but then it’s over and he makes up for it with a good-natured instrumental that unites slippery steel guitar and more trippy oud under the banner of summer eve beach music. The extended intro to “Alligator Wrestler,” which opens side two, reveals one of Bull’s talents – he’s one ribald raconteur. The tune, which is dedicated to an indiscreet rehab roommate’s rambunctious onanism, is a suitably slippery groove workout.

Label affiliation and acoustic instrumentation might have gotten Bull’s earlier records filed under folk, but here he’s closer to a cross between Shuggie Otis’s one-man funk and One World-era John Martyn’s post-coital torpor. The record’s blue-filtered cover image perpetuates that languid vibe, and monophonic sound does it no damage. The singing aside, this is pretty ace. (http://www.dragcity.com)
(Bill Meyer)

Bunwinkies
Map of Our New Constellations LP
(Feeding Tube)

RECOMMENDED

Part of a woven and spindly new frond of psychedelia, we now find New England outfits like Quilt and now Bunwinkies to extend gentle, occasionally bitter, stylized and informed, but not really that precious forms of candlelight strum. The record is all over the place and generally worthwhile, gliding between Mazzy Star honeysliders and something more distinctly American and austere. These people know how to control the mood pretty well, and it’s on the last three tracks of Map of Our New Constellations that they approach something transcendent, particularly the open-chord shamble choir of “Ooo Wee,” and the lights-out brooding of “Thank You Note.” Not a record I’d have ever thought to pick up, but there is at least a little bit of straight truth in here, and today, that’s enough. (http://www.feedingtuberecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

California X
“Sucker” b/w “Mummy” 7”
(The Sounds of Sweet Nothing)

A grungy, classic style fuzz-pop trio should appeal to me. Such bands have before and probably will again. But something seems off here. I have to blame the way this band was originally presented to me, long before former Shoppers drummer Josh Smith took the throne in this western Massachusetts trio and sent in this single. Someone, months ago, decided to tell me all about this band California X almost entirely in the context of another band I’ve championed in Still Single (which is specifically why I try not to talk to publicists and pushers), and I’ll let you figure it out from there, but it made things seem like the person in question wanted that other band and got these guys, a nearsighted facsimile, instead. All I could think about with this recorded incarnation of California X is their distance and the difference from the band they were sold to me as, and it’s clouded my judgment to the point where all I can hear is what’s wrong with this record – that “Sucker” bears down on a decent enough riff for twice as long as it needs to, for seven minutes at 45 RPM, compromising the full sound that producer Justin Pizzoferrato, who’s done a great job with recent Dinosaur Jr records, worked to give them. It totally squeezes the life out of the single, and when you flip it over to the shorter “Mummy,” you might blow out your speakers, as it’s twice as loud and a bit off-putting in context. What we’re left with is a hollow effort, ankled by rookie mistakes and a less-than-stellar pressing (there’s a big foreign object embedded in my vinyl), but really troubled by average songwriting and a flat interpretation of a known style. Smith mentioned maybe reissuing this single later in the year, but if that happens I think he should do it as a 12” EP with a few more songs on it, to try and let this music breathe a little bit. Better yet, the rest of the band needs to write and record with him, full stop, and let this one go, because as it stands, they need to do some real, hard work to catch up to the band I think they’re chasing, and it’s up to them to figure out how much of it they can manage. UK pressing (see how weird that sounds?) (http://thesoundsofsweetnothing.tumblr.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Callers & Delicate Steve
“Further Out” b/w “Perfect Pairs” 7”
(Western Vinyl)

Um … if you guys in this band/dude at this label are actively trying to get me to quit writing by sending in records this spectacularly awful, you’ve come very close. I don’t know who the fuck Delicate Steve is but I hate him already, and wished I didn’t have to share Brooklyn with him or anyone else involved in this pile of puke. Both tracks build off of the sort of sample-based, repetitive micro-edit music that TV On the Radio popularized, but they play it in the context of a laptop trying to figure out how to process all these samples of African palmwine style guitar playing, seemingly for no reason than to make you, the listener, hate music. “Further Out” contains the most annoying structure and dire female vocal, reminding me of the Joni Mitchell part in The Last Waltz (which is a good time to leave the room, go get a drink and maybe use the bathroom). “Perfect Pairs” starts as a ballad, which is really the only difference. If you love records then you will do your best to wipe this one the fuck out of existence. Rock music will lose a ball if it’s played three times in a row, a feat which I doubt will ever take place out of the confines of Western Vinyl HQ or the bands’ own dwellings (so it doesn’t count). Perfect for a coffeeshop or some other inane avenue of simple social activity/transactions. People who enjoy music and not this preening bullshit are hanging around with a cricket bat waiting to pound some sense into their MPC. I’ll put my heel through that fucker no problem. (http://www.westernvinyl.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Candy Anne/Three-Eyed Gemini
split 7”
(Discriminate Audio)

Something called “The Unpop Sound” (looks more like “The Photoshop 4.0 Players” to me) presents two productions, both in a pop-psych sort of vein. Candy Anne coos and squeaks over bass guitar and a chiptune style melody, like a young lass singing over a GameBoy-derived Jesus & Mary Chain song. Three-Eyed Gemini deliver a hackneyed portrayal of commercial ‘60s raga-psych with some taboo subject matter (well, if you call Anne Frank slash poetry “taboo”) while a harmonium or sitar cranks endlessly in the background. Website says it’s got props from both Boyd Rice and Douglas P. from Death in June, meaning that these folks probably paid those guys a compliment somewhere down the line. Lime green vinyl, 500 copies. Look at the cover and tell me if you can tell who this record is by. Has that specific quality, right down to that inept presentation, that tells me this could’ve been on Shimmy-Disc back in the early ‘90s. For the most part, that is not a good thing. (http://www.discriminateaudio.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Anne-James Chaton/Andy Moor
Transfer/3: Flying Machines 7”
(Unsounds)

The Ex is a participatory democracy, which means that its members exercise self-restraint as well as self-expression. While many of the quartet’s individual skills are well exercised, there are some that gather dust. Guitarist Andy Moor has found plenty of freedom in various assignations outside the band, and he’s never freer than in his collaboration with Frenchman Anne-James Chaton. The latter is generally characterized as a sound poet, although I think he might just as fairly be called a data miner; he searches French-language texts, some randomly and others purposefully selected, for significance as well as resonance. He reads each word without emphasis or prejudice, like a cinema nouvelle vague voice-over, leaving it to the listener to draw conclusions, while Moor fills up the rest of the sonic space doing whatever he damn well pleases. On their CD La Journaliste that meant slinging every post-punk guitar lick he ever liked with the vigor and acuity of an Olympic champion boomerang thrower. But on the series of singles that includes this record (it’s number three of four; the last one hasn’t been released yet) he’s opted for more elaborate constructions, and revealed himself to be quite the arranger. On previous volumes he made layered settings using post-SY guitar chimes, film dialogue, dance beats, and dubstep bass, and the essential musicality of this volume’s “Sul Volo” slots it comfortably in that sequence. After an opening in which his guitar scrapes heave like the breathing of a creature whose broken metal ribs have been loudly amplified, he locks into a chug that ratchets up the tension of Chaton’s recitation of aerodynamic descriptions cribbed from the writings of Leonardo da Vinci. “Une Histoire de l’Aviation” is more like a collage. His placement of tiny keyboard intrusions, dubby echoes, and black box recordings of dialogues between air traffic controllers and doomed pilots is just as unfailingly right as his instincts for when to spank that plank. It’s powerfully harrowing, or as Chaton’s compatriots might say, c’est merde formidable! The sleeve is a big fold-out poster and free mp3 downloads come with purchase to soften the blows of import pricing and airmail postage. (http://www.unsounds.com)
(Bill Meyer)

Cheater Slicks
Guttural Vol. 1: Live 2010 LP
(Columbus Discount)
Our Food Is Chaos LP/7”
(Almost Ready)

RECOMMENDED

Two ends of the figurative finger cuffs known as the Cheater Slicks, one from 1989 and the other captured live a few years ago. In between there is an incredible amount of filth, sweat, loogies, barf, burger grease, paraphernalia, resin, and other detritus that will ooze out and cement your fingers in permanently, so be warned – this is the harsh end of the spectrum, for the intrepid of ear. With a career so long, so consistent, so surprising and so unsung, and really no bad or even just OK releases in that entire time, they are the litmus test for the discerning rocker, the fire that draws the few bits of truth left out to the surface. Anyone who claims to be down for this cause and has ignored this band is a fuckin’ worm, straight up, and only hangs out with you because they want something. Having somehow relieved themselves of Merle Allin, Dana Hatch and the brothers Shannon replaced him briefly with Allen “Alpo” Paulino from the Real Kids, on their way to no bass players for the duration, Our Food Is Chaos captures this underdocumented portion of the Cheater Slicks’ early career. You can tell already that the removal of bass guitar could only help them, once they learned how to keep time a little better. They’re still piss-raw at this early date, and in memorable, well-worth-checking-out form, but things don’t sound or seem as immediate as they do now, probably because they seemed to be playing whatever the garage game was in their hometown of Boston at the time in between stretches of Back from the Grave and Elevators worship (vis a vis a lot of covers on this thing, originally released as a cassette). They’re never quite as shocking as they could be at their best, or as lost, except when they’re too lost (“Flashback”), but even in their (relative) infancy, the band knew it had nothing to lose in shooting at the floor, and the B-side and bonus single see this through. Guttural is the first in a projected series of Slicks live recordings, the band having pulled itself through the eye of the needle and somehow ended up more rockin’ and deranged than ever. The band’s move to Columbus in the ‘90s may have been out of economic necessity, but these guys have adopted the blank stare and abstract fury of Ohio’s greatest rock bands. Almost all of the subtleties that exist in this band’s mid-period output like Forgive Thee is long gone, flattened beyond death and brought back to life through electricity and resolve. If their current mode aims for maximum disgusting tone and tar-bucket rhythms, they certainly show every cruddy side of it here, wearing the listener’s ears and nails down to nubs. An incredible amount of noise, particularly on “Ghost,” aligns with the beat imperative (“Motherload”) to score your next blackout sesh. Both records are worth it, but Guttural wins out by several yards, though Food is the only way to get a decent version of “Golddigger,” one of the Slicks’ early singles and one of the most essential records of the entire canon. (http://www.columbusdiscountrecords.com) (http://www.almostreadyrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Co La
Daydream Repeater LP
(NNA Tapes)

RECOMMENDED

Smashing, nigh-essential piece of sample/collage dancewerk courtesy of Matthew Papich, formerly of Baltimore duo Ecstatic Sunshine. The name of that act could apply to the contents of Co La’s Daydream Repeater, allowing the exuberance of existing recordings – some familiar enough to where I wonder how this escaped the Sample Police – to be the medium unto which some deep, summery jams rotate against one another, masterfully building a hell of a mise en scene. Dude has great control over his environment, building really nice percussives and allowing them to fall cleanly and evenly into the fray, as a sense of enlightenment drops down to the dancing throngs, and the heyday of Baltimore club music some years ago. I won’t give away what exactly Papich is going into here – it’s too easy, but it is absolutely perfect, and with a very sly, arrangement trick, he extends the life of the track three or four times over, kinda like hunters who say they use all of the kill. I don’t know if I have enjoyed anything this year the way I dug that first spin of the leg-sweeping minimal disco/Decoding Society bumper “Vanity Plate” into “Wanna Say Faux,” and while nothing else on the record reaches that high, what all is left is certainly of high quality, from beachside, Reggae Sunsplash excursions with the chalice in hand, to bugged-out broken-beat reconstructions of jazz (“My Jamaican”) to some exquisitely warm downtempo fades like closer “Siamese in Greece.” This one’s got it, for sure. (http://nnatapes.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Compound Eye
Origin of Silence 12” EP
(The Spring Press)

Boorish collabs between Coil’s Drew McDowall and Psychic Ills’ Tres Warren. Electronic/psych extensions that are about as diffuse as the design of this record (clear vinyl, clear screenprinted sleeve) would suggest. McDowall brings one of Coil’s most difficult to bear templates to play here (not the bowel-churning fear, or the beyond-fried acid house nonsense; more of the watery, lucid soundtrack to a day spa that practices the dark arts). Not really an entry point on this one, so you might have to drill a hole and let nature take its course. Limited, though. (http://www.thespringpress.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

AG Davis + Jamison Williams
“Auto De Fe (1481)” 7”
(Gilgongo)

If you are at all entertained by John Zorn’s duo recordings/performances of the early ‘90s with Yamatsuka Eye or Mike Patton, this alto sax and vocal duet record may entertain you in the same ways. Davis (vocals) and Williams (sax) prove themselves quite adept at the quick-cut call-and-response dialog of frenzied shrieks, yelps, blurts, and short overblown phrases and multiphonic-rich reed chompings. The problem is that it doesn’t build much on what’s already been put out there, namely by Zorn/Eye. Though initially bracing, things start to lose creative steam after the first minute or so as ideas start to repeat. The pacing of the two untitled pieces varies little; eventually all the honks and tweets lose their outsider luster, and the wordless Muppet grumblings veer more toward comedy than unsettling catharsis. However, the duo is drawing from the right well – on the next outing, here’s hoping they further the extremity of their current vocabulary and venture way out of the comfort zone in which they spar here. Comes with a picture of a nude woman rendered abstractly in heavy scrawl (as is the cover drawing), which looks kind of cool. (http://www.gilgongorecords.com)
(Adam MacGregor)

Daytona
Storm So Long 12” EP
(self-released)

Carolina kids come to Brooklyn to get the band together. Some curious elements remain from what must have been a textbook regional upbringing in indie rock, in that we hear a need for utility outside of what a traditional rock instrument – or capable rock musician – can fill, and a reliance on a certain type of sound (the rangy, caterwauling, expansive form of pop that divides a meditative approach with a rambunctiousness that wins out in the end, in a string of acts from Modest Mouse to Oxford Collapse. They lean on the LoopStation extra hard on each of the five offerings here (technology trumps tendonitis yet again) in a way that resembles what Maserati wound up doing for all those years, but this is no technical triumph; the songs are looser than that, the tools used filling up spaces and creating cool counter-melodies. A lot of these songs are the sound of a band trying to figure itself out, but there’s a beaut in the last track “Yr In Beijing,” which sounds less like a song and more like a song built out of jamming, which in the context of bands that exude fandom to a few certain points, should be the ideal. Stop trying, guys; by the sound of that one song, you’re already there. Stretch it out. 300 numbered copies, silkscreened sleeve. (http://daytonapals.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

(D)(B)(H)/Seeded Plain & Hal Rammel
split LP
(Friends and Relatives/Gilgongo)

Two Midwestern outfits get active. (D)(B)(H) side = Euro free improvisation, the type with a saxophone spastically/gingerly blurting while three guys clatter metal and percussive objects in restless fashion. Takes a whole side to resolve and doesn’t quite get there. Seeded Plain team up with Hal Rammel on their side for some even more abstract, noisome improvisation on homemade instruments and amplified palette. It’s busier and much more unpredictable, as the listener can neither see nor determine the makeup of the tools at play here – part windchime, part cheese slicer? Who had six thumbs and fingers that are all cut up and mutilated? THESE GUYS. Adventurous listening, particularly the latter, in a homemade looking sleeve. One has to wonder if the economic nightmare of Europe circa now is putting a damper on guys like these, and their ability to make a living through their art; after all, this is where such music seemed to thrive for decades on end. Then again, is that even a concern for such groups? The ivy-covered walls of academia and the rebellion that brews within each individual trapped inside informs the scrappy, unsettling sounds found here.
(http://friendsandrelativesrecords.blogspot.com)
(http://www.gilgongorecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Deep Waters
s/t LP
(self-released)

Solo project for an artist who self-identifies with both Smog, Red House Painters and Grouper, more like working in the disused spaces between such artists, where soulfulness and meaning are hard to come by, and are flyblown wrecks when they do. The record is ambitious but problematic to the core, an attempt at meaningful evasiveness in music which avoids sensible categorization in the context of avant-folk downers, to its detriment. (http://deepwaters.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Destination Lonely
Kiss or Kicks LP
(Les Disques Steak)

Well-heeled, well-presented French garage rockers, peering into the abyss and sensing the abyss peering back. This stuff is pretty good, certainly along the energy level of the Hives of whatnot, with the kind of vocals that reach back to Radio Birdman or Fun Things kinda raw-throated action. Six songs here, and they certainly kick up the dustcloud to a proper thickness, even on songs like “I’m Down” (not the Beatles’ version), which slides between hoochie-mama strut and furious pedal stomp. Lotta twang on here too. Good stuff, always nice to hear one of these bands take an obviously classic thing and give it the treatment it deserves. (http://disquessteak.bigcartel.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Disco Zombies
Drums Over London LP
Happy Refugees
Return to Last Chance Saloon LP
(Acute)

RECOMMENDED

Dan Selzer was one of the first people I met after moving to New York City, and also one of the most passionate about music, particularly postpunk, which he dutifully dusted off for a whole new, informed clique of dance acolytes Monday nights at the late lamented Plant Bar. The music in question was starting to inform a lot of what was going to happen with new bands in the city for the next number of years, and there really was no better way to get yourself sorted out than to go to his Transmission parties, back when I was young enough to stay out that late drinking and make it to work the next day fairly unscathed. It was a guarantee you’d see a familiar face (if you were me, at least) and that there would be something fun to do that would help kick off another week the way it needed to. Plant Bar is no more, sadly (nothing that good can last for long) but Dan’s love of the music has kept him spinning all over town in the intervening years, and apart from serving as music supervisor for the recent NYC no-wave filmmaker documentary “Blank City,” he’s also kept up with his reissue label, Acute, which has made the jump from CDs to vinyl with two finely-presented offerings from the middle tier of British DIY bands, the latest in the list of thankless jobs he’s taken on for the simple reason that they needed to exist.

Disco Zombies’ “Drums Over London” is the Leicester-via-London group’s best-known track, having made it to a Killed By Death comp, and has been championed by Chuck Warner and other collector/archivists, but the group’s slim output of just three 7”s, coupled with its low profile and shifting membership, keeps them out of most discussions when it comes to music of the era. Drums Over London the compilation provides the most expanded view of this university punk band to date, as they felt out the possibilities through punk, and then a more serious path informed by the troubled times of their nation in the late ‘70s’ crises. After disappearing from recorded view, they soldiered on for a while longer, moving in an artier direction that began to guide the ambitions they fostered in their best releases (the brooding “Here Comes the Buts” and the anthemic title track) on a less-followed, cerebral path. The record comes with a download card which contains a host of live recordings, all of which bear this out. This is a complete discography with a number of unreleased tracks, and a thick booklet which frames the group as underdogs in the game and positions them within the proper historical context.

Happy Refugees formed around London around the time Disco Zombies were winding down, and the group’s ever-expanding lineup of dissatisfied young men now seems like a support group pattern for guys with some education but nothing else worthwhile in which to apply it. But the music they made together spoke in more tangible terms, a loosened-tie anger and critical gaze at authority fueled by snarling c ‘n’ c riffs, discomforting production choices (what is going on with the cymbals on “This Is Cold”?), and a keen ability to channel a bunch of different approaches to this sound, which might put them closer to the Mekons than the Fall, but still on a noteworthy trajectory, and one which would inform less concerned groups like the June Brides as they went on. It’s tough to describe actually why it works so well, and why it’s the more substantial of the two releases, but Happy Refugees covered a lot of terrain, and did so admirably, because of the pressures placed on them. Most bands of that era (and there ought to be a book, covering every self-released record of the era from New Wave to C86 in the UK, including art rock) relied too much on ideas that didn’t work, ambitions that seem rudderless in the face of what went on, songs that never get going. There’s none of that here, and the band (reactivated to promote this release) sounded as great as one could hope during live dates in the US last winter. Download card features outtakes, and in one case, a recording from the original 12” not represented on the vinyl (title track), which kind of forces you into buying a new copy. Whatever, you deserve it. (http://www.acuterecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Axel Dörner, Werner Dafeldecker, Sven-Åke Johansson
Der Kreis Des Gegenstandes LP
(Monotype)

Despite the credits, which augur your typical free-improv encounter, this is a group, and that group has a mission. The name of the album, per Google Translator, is In The Circle Object, and that’s what they call themselves when they get booked. If you’re acquainted with the work of any of these guys over the last 10-15 years, you have some idea what to expect. Dörner leaves both jazz and electronics at home, focusing on wind-powered rasps and parps. Dafeldecker’s bass playing is a tad more assertive here than it tends to be with Polwechsel, but he still treats affective demonstration as an indulgence to be avoided. And Johansson, whose CV includes participation in the ground zero document of European free jazz (the Peter Brötzmann Octet’s Machine Gun), and in a cabaret duo with Alexander Von Schlippenbach, one of the odder of those I’ve ever experienced, sticks to his drums. The name of the band might also be a clue to the three players’ methods; isolate something, examine it closely, get at its essence. They’re not playing tunes, they are playing compositions with a high level of specificity and focus, with the intention of vigorously interrogating both sounds and what one does with them. One might wonder why this record is on LP, a choice that will further limit its already circumscribed audience, but one would wonder a lot more if this record was not executed so well. The vinyl’s not just heavy but nice and clean, and the sleeve image’s array of fixed containers, depicted with sunny clarity, really does say something about how this trio works. And if you’re someone who gets off on that kind of integrated sonic-visual-conceptual statement, this record is for you. (http://www.monotyperecords.com)
(Bill Meyer)

Drosofile
“Mal” b/w “Your Roberts” 7”
(SDZ)

I’m more interested in the story of why a Frenchman who identifies with punk would exile himself to Columbus, OH, probably more so than the output on this single, which is in itself pretty good.

I’ve just learned the story, and it wasn’t that exciting (grad school, shoulda guessed – other reason might have been “love” but I don’t sense much of that going on here). So, yes, the music is more interesting, particularly as it pairs Murer, he of noise outfit Mulan Serrico, up with Guinea Worms’ Will Foster, for two monochromatic scatterings of proto-electronic punk misery. Neither “Mal” nor “Your Roberts” have a lot to say, but the message is banged out in a direct, borderline barbaric manner, with a limited palette built for such punishment. Knuckles drag, beats kling und klang, words are mumbled and moaned, but there’s purpose to all of this, and in a way it sounds like a starved and degenerated Guinea Worms, which suits them. Pretty alright. (http://sdzrecords.free.fr)
(Doug Mosurock)

El Jesus De Magico
Just Deserts LP
(Columbus Discount)

RECOMMENDED

So few bands ever make a truly great record that the scrutiny for those that do becomes far greater. Why can’t they do it again? Such was the case for El Jesus De Magico’s “Unclean Ghost” 7” from a few years back, two sides capturing a band that was mastering the moment, the dishwater-brown lo-fi muddle from which raised a Velvets-bred spectre that held all the other facets of that particular sound-creep in sway. Listen to it sometime and see if you can tell how they did it. Maybe they couldn’t figure it out, as sporadic recordings released since have found the band in somewhat of a holding pattern, mistaking improvised noise beds for the good night’s rest that rarely comes after such an adventure. Just Deserts is said to have been cobbled together from leftover recording sessions, but it’s the best release by EJDM since that single. It’s more of a mishmash of ideas from various times and places than anything cohesive, as the longer songs tend to stay put (“Good U.F.O./Bad U.F.O. Experience” in particular weighs this record down with a creepy crawly Birthday Party kinda debaucherous vibe that would have fit better at the end of the record than as the second track), but the ideas present in the band’s finest work are all here. It’s a power sprint through GBV tapes melted and stretched out to their breaking point, to the sandy-eyed, morning after tar pit of the Grifters’ earliest works, gleaning the elements that work into an unstable and occasionally brilliant product. EJDM simply decided not to put in any particular order, which is a bit maddening, but which will probably reveal its reasons several listens in. Silkscreened sleeve, 500 copies, first 100 on purple vinyl. (http://www.columbusdiscountrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Enthusiasts
“Sinkin/Risin” b/w “Joanne” 7”
(Magic Sleeeve)

RECOMMENDED

Young rockers from a short ride up the Metro-North come across with The Goods, straight up. This is an anonymous, even amateur looking record which arrived here held together with staples, and with a presentation like this I’d have expected the worst. NOT SO. Rarely are there surprises of this magnitude, a well-executed, smokin’ hot romp through the contested area between late ‘60s heavy garage and early ‘70s proto-metal, with the boogie moves needed to punch through the gray layer of stoner rock clogging up the notions of this music making good on whatever promise it has left. “Sinkin/Risin” is the stronger of the two cuts, a big ol; basement rager with plenty of hollerin’ and some sizeable riffage which anchors it all together, while “Joanne” opts for a slower burn, eventually steering towards power-pop harmonies (think the Raspberries, not some skinny tie band) tied down with hard rock ballast. Not sure where these kids figured it out, but they could teach plenty of active hacks a few lessons, 150 numbered copies. Actual sleeve not pictured, at least as far as my copy is concerned. Worth it regardless! (http://enthusiastsny.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Erode and Disappear
Scythian Lamb LP
(self-released)

RECOMMENDED

Just as life-affirming as Northern Liberties’ Glowing Brain Garden with the exception of one or two missing sonic layers, but then again, this exclusion doesn’t really take away from the ultra-special talent (and it should be reiterated that this is ACTIVE TALENT) at hand here. To clarify: this is the bass player and the vocalist/percussionist (Kevin Riley and Justin Duerr respectively) of Northern Liberties, operating in what some may hear as a stripped-down version but what in reality is just more emphasis on the outright pop aspects of what I’m going to go out on a limb here and call the “parent band” (in possible but good-hearted error). This is just as essential as the Northern Liberties record and what I have to say about this Duerr character is still a work in progress but do see that review. Highly, highly recommended if you give a shit about music and probably quite limited. Spend your last bux if you have to…you’ll thank someone if not me. (http://www.erodeanddisappear.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Evening Meetings
“Forgotten in Seconds” b/w “Hello Mr. Evening” 7”
(Dirty Knobby)

Another vector radiates from the Seattle axis that brought us A Frames, Love Tan, Factums, etc. I see how it goes in that city now, so a record like this isn’t as much of a mystery, but I’m cool with about 60% of it. “Forgotten in Seconds” … well yeah, I can’t remember this one, sorry dawggz. But “Hello Mr. Evening” seems more like it, and it’s one of those few tracks that can find success through repetition/annoyance, the kind like where you can’t wait for it to be over, then find yourself thinking about it more and more once it ended. That’s how I felt the first few times I heard the Fall, and that’s also what happens here. Primitive/cruddy guitar barks out over cheap FX and 4:20 vocals muttering about this or that, but it goes on just long enough to pass “too long” and into “not long enough.” Don’t look for a progression; just stare at the spot on the wall. This music is like that. Pretty cool, would like to hear more. (http://www.dirtyknobby.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

EZRAMO
Come Ho Imparato A Volare 12” EP
(Corvo)

Improvs built around three of my least favorite musical concepts of all time (Roma folk music, aimless acoustic drone, synth/piano meanderings). Musically it’s as skillful as it needs to be, but conceptually it is like the trifecta of shit, like someone rubbing two big hunks of Styrofoam together, like one of those Las Vegas resort commercials with the old people fucking in it, and only a rusty-gate flapper on vocals could make it worse. Not for use by anyone, ever. (http://www.corvorecords.de)
(Doug Mosurock)

Famines
45 RPM: The Complete Collected Singles LP
(Mammoth Cave)

RECOMMENDED

Five 7”s and a track from Mammoth Cave’s Bloodstains Across Alberta EP make up this satisfying full-length by the Famines, spanning the past few years of operations in Edmonton. As far as guitar/drum duos go, these guys remain near the top of the pile, working from a sharp, abstract corner of rock arcana favorited by bands like Shellac and their acolytes, and turning what some might fear a routine exercise – an endurance contest of hi-speed riffin’ and drummin’ with little regard for tunesmithery – into something that latches onto your brainstem and gives a surprising tug. These guys have a good, working knowledge of their format, limitations, and environment, and each song endeavors to manipulate one or more aspects of that knowledge into something more than it really is, be it inspirational or physically determined. Good jammin’, solid ideas, and at its best it makes the air crackle around it with excitement. They keep things moving as well, each song short enough to warrant wanting more, but wise enough not to push it. Great design wraps this one up nicely. This isn’t the end, or so states the liner notes: “though this collection is ‘complete,’ they reserve the right to record and release more singles.” I hope they do. (http://www.mammothcaverecording.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Far-Out Fangtooth
Pure & Disinterested LP
(Siltbreeze)

RECOMMENDED

Hardly anyone outside of the greater Philadelphia Tumblr community seems to have caught on to this quietly-released gem. They play dense, noisy, dirty rock for the late, humid August weeks in Pennsylvania (I grew up with these too, but across the state), death and buzzing lingering in the air, with thoughtful choices in guitar tone and production that gives a layer of clarity to those mushy mid-’80s recordings like Dinosaur’s debut or Bad Moon Rising (two very obvious sources of inspiration for the band, along with the Cure ca. Pornography and Live Skull). There is some significant hairshake and idol worship happening here, but the songs and the character to back it up, including three distinctive vocalists and a heavy harvest/Pagan doom undercurrent beneath it all. If Broken Water is playing the Lee side of Sonic Youth, Far-Out Fangtooth is all over the Thurston and Kim side, hopeless and maniacally staring damnation down. Tracks like “Woe,” with its lurid chorus (“Bad karma will burn you in the end/And this must be what hell feels like“) and insistent drumming, work as the unofficial soundtrack to possibly the last summer our kind will know. (http://www.siltbreeze.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Fat Shadow
Foot of Love LP
(Houseplant)

Unadorned, heart-on-sleeve rock with a female vocalist and some guys looking to babyproof the concept of pop-punk. Seems like feelings might be better expressed in a different format, without this bland music behind it. Tried filmmaking yet? Give it a whirl. (http://www.houseplantrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Foi Pour Pusillanime
s/t 7” EP
(self-released)

RECOMMENDED

Putting this record on shut down the rest of the turning world, and dragged me by the ankles into a wheezing, festering sump of bilious quicksand. Creepy, icky experimental blips – six of ‘em, made by the French duo of Caroline Ehretique and Ogrob (he of Micro_Penis and a handful of other disturbing ensembles), given life by way of a number of instruments, tapes and tools, and something called “synthe anal“ (don’t even wanna know), and with names like “Orifices” and “Vascularisation Maximale” – that run closer to Nurse w/Wound or Throbbing Gristle than most of the noise diarrhea that sticks to the rim over here. Clearly some thought went into this work, if the design of wet, organic synth sounds weren’t proof enough; the duo is also quite good at playing with space and silence, even within the confines of such short tracks, to make an impact. It’s not often that a piece of abstract noise will affect me in such a way, but I can’t think of much else out there to describe this unique, chilling effort. 300 copies, in a hand-cut two-sided litho sleeve that accordions out into a long, jagged, veiny shape, kinda reminiscent of that HOAX 7” I ordered but never received. (http://www.ogrob.org)
(Doug Mosurock)

French Quarter
Desert Wasn’t Welcome LP
(Offtempo)

Steven Steinbrink has made two quite excellent albums, and has proven himself one of the unsung lights of the latter-day home studio style musician, wringing a great deal of emotion and artifice from modest means. Desert Wasn’t Welcome sadly feels like a step back in ways. Recorded with a full band at Dub Narcotic, the sudden jump in production quality and need to arrange for a bigger band, sets some obvious traps for these guys, and on most apart from a few tracks (the buttoned-down mind exploration of “Got Ideas” and the hopeful realism of “Checks and Balances,” underlit by a competent rhythm section) there seems to be a pull towards known, tired influences – Death Cab, Built to Spill, Modest Mouse, The Sea & Cake – with the same small-scale songwriting that provided all of the intimacy those earlier records required, and it tends to get lost in the shuffle. It was way too hard to lose myself in these songs for some reason – I know there is talent here, and it is kind of obscured by some need to follow what might be the “standard” way for a project like this to develop. I await the next French Quarter album, and hope that it doesn’t pull the punches that Desert Wasn’t Welcome does in order to seem like it could contend with known quantities. This guy was best when he was alone, and with that backing vocalist on the second album. Maybe he’ll find his way back. (http://imprint.offtempo.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Gang Violets
“Black Clouds” b/w “A Touch From The Wild Child” 7”
(All Hands Electric)

Do you know how many artists got away with this Ya’llternative bullshit back in 1995? About five, maybe six. Guess how many do in 2012? Negative for infinity and then some. I mean, this is a review of a band that settled on “The Gang Violets” as a moniker. Smart money, after this poisoned my house for an untold number of minutes, that The Gang Violets have one or two girls that do that hands-behind-the-back-and-forth vocal-only jiggle in live sitches. Hey, what itches worse than fucking a Dixie Cup of live fleas? The shanty-shack curtains/table-cloth Grand Ol’ Opry period-imperfect dresses those girls always wear on stage. Or to the drug store. This should not be happening. All together now: MEDIOCRITY: START THE VIOLENCE! (http://www.allhandselectric.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Nelson Gastaldi
Symphony No. 3: Siddhartha Gautama O el Poder De La Nada LP
(Roaratorio)

The story goes that a cab driver in Buenos Aires once threatened bandoneon player and Nuevo tango composer Astor Piazzolla for his crimes against the tango. He might given himself the ceremonial Mohawk and gone totally Travis Bickle if he’d ever gotten Nelson Gastaldi into his car, because Gastaldi does things with this symphony that you just shouldn’t do. The most noticeable transgressions are instrumental. Gastaldi, who died in 2009 at the age of 77, never released an album and never got an orchestra to perform his music throughout his life. He got around these barriers by performing and recording his music himself using bicycle wheels, wind-up toys, and a pneumatic hammer. “Symphony No. 3: Siddhartha Gautama Or The Power Of Nothingness,” his first recording to obtain commercial release, is relatively conventional; the strings and brass are supplied by Casio keyboards, the percussion by what sounds like a toy xylophone, and the bird cries by one of those wind-up toys. On first listen it sounds a little bit like late-’60s Sun Ra, mainly because of the murky recording (Gastaldi used Sony black box cassette recorders and normal bias tape), but also because of the music’s outsized drama. Once you get past the recording quality, the piece’s links to 19^th century orchestral music are pretty plain. If this symphony is anything to go by, Gastaldi got off the bus before Webern got on; there’s not a lot of dissonance beyond that generated by his crude tools. But neither does it proceed on a path towards conventional development and resolution. Rather, it’s discursive, elaborating on melodic notions, then revising them, then jumping to some other idea that seems like a footnote but changes the scene like clicking on a hypertext link. Roaratorio, a label that still flies the Rodd Keith flag with pride, seems like a good home for this music, and they’ve treated it well; it comes on clean black vinyl, the sleeve looks suitably paranormal, and it comes with a download coupon for those late night walks in the park. Oh, while Gastaldi never got to conduct an orchestra, he did jam with Reynols, whose Anla Courtis supplied Bananafish magazine with a mind-bending interview with the maestro in issue 18. You can read it here: (http://roaratorio.com/24int.html)
(Bill Meyer)

Gold-Bears/Bracelettes
split 7” EP
(Oddbox)

Shoegaze/twee split from a singles subscription series out of England (other participants include the Ketamines). Gold-Bears have two noisy pop songs, kind of like Superchunk but with a much bigger, more manicured guitar tone. These songs are decent, and “Bedroom” ends with the mastering engineer pushing the levels on the track so far up that it knocks the needle out of the groove. Bracelettes are a too-cute girl group sounding affair, but they manage to commit the minorly annoying, majorly catchy taunt “You Make Me Laugh” in my head. 400 numbered copies. (http://www.oddboxrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Golden Boys
Dirty Fingernails LP
(12XU)

RECOMMENDED

Maybe simpler is better for the Golden Boys, an Austin roots-rock ‘n’ roll sing-yer-heart-out outfit with a wide and active membership. Whatever was the moment that they were basking in on their last album Electric Wolfman, which started strong but sounded unfinished and suffered from far too many hands in the mix, it’s all been sorted out on their fourth full-length Dirty Fingernails. A band with four or even five distinct voices shouldn’t need the help anyway, particularly as one of their faults is their inability to stay on topic (and with a guy like John Wesley Coleman III in the ranks, who sounded like he was three steps from the looney bin on his last solo album). Still, consistency, and moreover strong, winning songs push this one along at a good pace and leaves you wanting a little more at the end, which most good records do. Reined in isn’t a bad approach for these guys, who play around the essence of fist-in-the-air, life-on-the-line rock music without addressing it as such too often; while being careful not to offend these guys with attempts to suss out their direct influences, this one won’t let down any fans of the best material by groups like the Reigning Sound or the Original Sins, played with a swollen heart and clenched-fist determination (“Run Away,” the title track, “Older Than You” and “Sidewalk” being great for these guys, and stupendous for just about anyone else). When done incorrectly, this sort of music can really wear you out, but I don’t know that these guys do anything wrong when together with one another, and each effort seems to improve the formula even further. Here’s a great chance to check out a killer group at the height of their power. Part of the “Records Featuring Pictures of Trailer Space On Their Covers” series of releases on 12XU. (http://12xu.net)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Great Tyrant
There’s A Man In The House LP
(Dada Drumming)

RECOMMENDED

One of the more seamless blends of Goth, doom metal and progressive rock I can think of, Fort Worth, TX’s The Great Tyrant sadly couldn’t be here to see their lone album released to the public. A quick bio of the band revealed that they remained active, woodshedding the six songs that became this posthumous release, for several years, but setbacks – chief among which, and the most tragic, being the suicide of bassist Tommy Atkins in early 2010 – saw these six songs shelved from ‘08 up until late last summer, when this record was released. It’s a stirring set, and the only way I can describe it with brevity would be to compare it to the murky depths of Oxbow and/or Swans, the melancholy/dramatic howl of the Birthday Party, the prog/technical/open rock skills of Osanna, and the driven, grinding nihilism of Dazzlingkillmen, with, at times, all of these influences blended together at once. It makes for a forceful, gripping, occasionally terror-filled listen, the group’s invisible hand pulling tight on your restraints and testing your response to its sadistic bent. If I had any complaints, it would be that the songs have the occasional tendency drag in between exciting moments, but those moments are so exciting for fans of these genres that it’s worth the trip. I was blown away by much of what I heard here, and it was a total shock and surprise to discover a band on the fringes, successful in bending the known to their unruly whim, making truly advanced and cage-rattling music for a moment that no longer exists. It also makes me wonder if anything else this insane is hiding beneath the Dallas underbelly, and sure enough, surviving members Daron Beck and Jon Teague have a new project called Pinkish Black, and it looks like another albums’ worth of The Great Tyrant material is ready to R.I.P. 500 copies (100 clear, 400 black), and looking to be available from the following source: (http://www.dadadrumming.org)
(Doug Mosurock)

Group Inerane
Guitars From Agadez, Vol. 4 7” EP
(Sublime Frequencies)

RECOMMENDED

Out of any of the “Group” recordings Sublime Frequencies has captured out of the Sahara, this is definitely among the best (along with the first offerings by Groups Doueh and Inerane, and the latest Doueh album Zayna Jumma), and definitely the most straightforward rock record of the batch. This thing will leave a fuckin’ welt on your conscience, three absolute BURNERS that work blasting progressive psych-rock out of the traditions of North African folk, in a collision with the Western world that bests any comparable experience out there. Christ, “Ikabkaban” sounds like it could be some basement reels by Socrates Drank the Conium if I didn’t know better. It’s that kinda party, as appropriate for the band’s current environment as it would have been for a smoke-filled Maryland basement in 1975. Flays skin, peels paint, must-own. Heavier and more dense than most rock records I own, and I own quite a few. Pressed up for Inerane’s 2011 European tour, and not long for this world – sold out at the source, even. Hunt one down ASAP. (http://www.sublimefrequencies.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Hildur Guðnadóttir
Without Sinking 2xLP
(Touch)

RECOMMENDED

This will probably bum a few of you out, but like many kids who grew up on indie rock in the ‘90s, and who were fascinated by the drama and energy and release of some of its more notable acts, I rushed out and bought the Rachel’s LP as soon as it came out. It was a record I should have just kept in its sleeve, sealed and untouched. To listen to chamber music on that level of monochromatic simplicity just about soured me on that kind of music altogether. I rarely seek it out (though most of what comes to Still Single was hardly sought by me at all), and I remain woefully ignorant of classical music in most forms. Not to draw a comparison, but a very stiff, dry piece of music with which I could make no connection still tarnishes my view, the representative no one asked to show up. All because I liked Rodan! I’m bringing all of this up not to make a Rachel’s comparison, but to lament that this double album by Icelandic cellist Hildur Guðnadóttir wasn’t my first foray into chamber music. She performs solo and with sparse accompaniment (bassist Skuli Sverrisson, better known for his free jazz work where I come from; Johann Johannsson, himself a composer on a similar trajectory, on organ and computer) across a frigid 13-song cycle, battered by grey seawater and very nearly lost in the mists and shifting plates of metaphysical being. Without Sinking, originally released by Touch in 2009, and now in a new vinyl edition, evokes true sadness, which approaches a heavy emotional state, but somehow manages to play through in an incredibly light and supple style, in a way that is difficult to describe, but you’ll understand when you hear it. Most of the record is nothing but her cello, multitracked, without obvious processing or effects treatment (though it is there, it takes a back seat, as it should, to the product). Many would attribute something this melancholy to hard-to-deal-with feelings, or an internal sadness that lashes out in unforgiving ways. I can’t understand it as that. This is a powerful work that instills within the listener that their soul is about to dissipate, and none of the resignation that might be associated with such a moment is present. It is a state of being; there, in a deft moment of skill from Guðnadóttir’s wrists, you bravely accept your own minor fate, the dust from which you were said to return replaced with chilling temperature and briny denouement. Never have I been so moved by music that gives off an expression of being so close to the end of the line. Guðnadóttir rounds out this recording with strokes of zither, and an Icelandic folk hymn sung acapella with some treatments, but there’s a point near the middle of the final track “Iridescence” that brings a new layer of depth to the proceedings, like the coffin lid is being closed for good. Experience this and you will know what it is like to have the ice in you. (http://www.touchmusic.org.uk)
(Doug Mosurock)

Hammering the Cramps
s/t LP
(Wormwood Grasshopper)

RECOMMENDED

A fantastic record with no band to back it up. Hammering the Cramps existed from 2005 through 2007 or thereabouts; members are now doing time in the band Drunk Elk. Perhaps this band/this album was a bit ahead of its time, as the kind of people who are now just discovering New Zealand bands will no doubt flock to this effort, whereas it was still a bit of an antiquity back when this oddly-named group was alive and kicking in Hobart, Tasmania, the kind of place that hasn’t been known to let its wayward coordinates stop great bands (Sea Scouts, The Native Cats, Paint Your Golden Face) from surfacing to the rest of the world. Point is, this one shouldn’t have slipped through the cracks, a real rager that combines the room pressure of Trapdoor Fucking Exit-era Dead C. with the sort of frenetic psychedelic heft of any great Wayne and Kate Village band (hearing Crystalized Movements in the crashing percussion, Major Stars in the overall riff-force and keyed-up delivery), and the sun-blinded free spirit that rises into the air anytime someone plays the Plagal Grind 12”. It sounds as if it could have surfaced as some ambitious Xpressway offshoot back in 1988, the presence of four guys with the third dimension flickering on and off, banging on their cages and letting tiny, powerfully-focused beams of light pierce the painted black walls and rip through to a late afternoon blue sky. That’s a feeling I rarely have about any sort of music anymore, so consider this a must-own, and check to see if you white-knuckled at any point during the raucous middle portion of this fine LP like I did. “Seahorse Song” – good god! 300 copies. (http://wormwoodgrasshopper.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Hana
SM 12” EP
(Granny)

Commit to the strenuous content/image search on the electronic duo Hana and you find two Greek guys who hide behind images of beautiful women, and in particular, their legs. Deign to put this 12” on your turntable and you are left with subsonic microhouse that your home stereo probably can’t handle, or for that matter, the systems of most clubs in NYC, which would make this sound like someone doing the dishes in the dead of winter in a really dry, staticky apartment while someone comes up behind you after shuffling on the carpet for a good long while and gives you a series of shocks on your butthole. Probably more attuned frequency-wise to what dogs can hear, and they don’t like it any more than I do. (http://www.grannyrecords.org)
(Doug Mosurock)

Happy Jawbone Family Band
OK Midnight, You Win LP
(Feeding Tube)

Bunch of Vermont ne’er-do-wells here (maybe in the sense that they might have some weed in their homes for personal use, or steal pens and paper from their respective workplaces) jawing happily on a wild tear of hyper-melodic, joyous rock music. Shades of the Cherry Blossoms, Arcade Fire (scope, not practice), Heavy Vegetable and TFUL282 brighten the curious corners of these 12 songs, each running off wild like a bunch of kids who had too many Pixie Stix, convening in energetic and dexterous musicianship. Fun if you don’t wanna run with the pack, and are looking to find a new one. This one seems like a safe and fun-having lot. (http://www.feedingtuberecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Heavy Times
Jacker LP
(Hozac)

RECOMMENDED

I don’t remember Heavy Times being particularly heavy in any appreciable sense on their 7”, which sounded like McDonald’s wrappers blowing across a parking lot. Jacker could be the work of an entirely different band, one that can actually rock with some determination. This is poppy, melodic music with a hard exterior crust, toughened up with blown-out production choices which make this one sound like quite the ass-pounder, chugging away at the sort of line-drive rhythms perfected by Rocket from the Crypt and Hot Snakes. It’s fun to listen to these guys do the Chicago-style backup pop-punk vocals a la Naked Raygun, and to hear the sort of well-oiled Midwest noise/indie rock mechanisms that used to grind with pride back in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. It all fits together quite well, the unexpected harder side of the tracks here giving the songs a lot of tooth, and the monolithic nature of their sound fortifying the riffs. “Memory Dump,” the album’s ballad, even recalls, like, Neil Diamond. Does Chicago have good bands again? Maybe so. (http://www.hozacrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Hey Colossus
Dominant Male LP
(Clan Destine)

Like a combination of Black Elk and what you think all those quasi-darkwave/goth side projects on 4AD in the mid-80’s might sound like had you bothered to raise the curiosity level to “seek out and hear” mode. This record has been floating around in demo and maybe another form since 2009 but enjoyed proper vinyl treatment by Clandestine within the past year (I get the stuff that is already way overdue…I see…hey, not complaining). Lurches into truly scary, borderline homicidal noise-rock a la the band mentioned in the opening sentence plus other folks who have taken the first wave of noise-rock (late-80’s to mid-90’s) and injected it with REAL PROBLEMS. Check it out if you don’t like the presence of most types of female. (http://clandestinerecords.blogspot.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Higuma
Pacific Fog Dreams LP
(Root Strata)

Ambient guitar/feedback washes with phased-out, mostly wordless female vocals, as presented by Lisa McGee and Barn Owl’s Evan Caminiti. I’ve never particularly been a fan of Barn Owl, or lots of modern drone for that matter, much of it with roots in the side of the genre I cannot abide (the serious, literal side of it, from Stars of the Lid on down). There has to be some unique quality that resonates beyond the grip of the e-bow and effects arrays, and this doesn’t have enough tooth to satisfy such a basic need. Like Flying Saucer Attack with its nails trimmed, along with no real riffs, and an abidance to higher fidelity that doesn’t sit well in this case. It’s pretty … pretty dull. (http://www.rootstrata.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Hindershot
It’s Only Blood 7” EP
(Hot Congress)

As the Great Culture Conflict of the Early Millenniteens rolls on, one of the resultant manifesto states that Brian Eno is no longer allowed to be a conscious or name-dropped influence. Not that Eno, in any variety, can be heard on this record of one of the worst, most lifeless and useless forms to fall under the meaningless term of “indie” – the wide-screen, ultra-safe sub-NPR non-style is what Hindershot has wasted time, money, energy and petroleum on, so that this can clog up an already choked musical landscape. It doesn’t move things backwards, however, because it doesn’t do anything at all. Sometimes I am astonished to hear such a void of inspiration and worth. Get this thing out of my sight. Isn’t there a law firm that needs some interns, or a bar that needs help somewhere near these people? Rock-based music is in trouble, and it should be punishable by law to knowingly make more mediocrity. Yes, they knew … there’s no way in hell they didn’t know. (http://www.facebook.com/hotcongress)
(Andrew Earles)

Hotchacha/Summer People
Do It split LP
(Exit Stencil)

The cover shows a spot-varnished, treated photo of Niagara Falls. You want me to jump? Me?! Can I listen to something else first? Summer People hail from Syracuse, New York, and take the rusty lusty old fence lady voice into some rough terrain, a steampunk approximation of the Jesus Lizard. What is this, Atlanta? Remember that band Prohibition? I guess these folks don’t. And they don’t stick to songs from older broken times, but rather give us four for these ones. They’re broken as you might expect. Heavy theater vibe here, bolstered by the large headcount of the group; personally I can’t take that sorta thing unless it’s come from Stiffs, Inc., and baby, that ship has sailed. Hotchacha got a mention in the New York Times last year, or rather their former bassist, who said she quit the band for more fulfilling work at a record pressing plant. Sounds reasonable. Their songs here are much, much better than the Summer People have to offer, and there’s four of those as well. Musically they ride a streamlined post-punk groove, a bit more rock-focused than others, maybe a shade or two away from an older band from their hometown of Cleveland, the Vivians. You can feel the shackles of regional band-ism (banditis? that’s worse than contact dermatitis!) on both sides, which has no known cure. Please do not let this stop you from obtaining another release on Exit Stencil, though, particularly their forthcoming Numbers Band reissue. (http://www.exitstencil.org)
(Doug Mosurock)

Hunting Party
Sub Rosa with Whispered Pacts s/t 7” EP
(Hesitation Wound)

There’s always something to say about modern hardcore punk records, and it’s usually along one of two lines: “It’s OK/not great” or “this sounds exactly like [insert name of one of the few bands that ever got it right].” The former usually comes out of a band trying to temper an approach with some new ideas. Bay Area five-piece Hunting Party seems to fall somewhere in between those two lines of thought. This evokes the ‘90s more than these folks might like to admit, with attempts to extend angry HC past the anger into something a bit more abstract, but falls flat on delivery, at least as far as this release is concerned. “Straight Shooter” bends a Flag-style confusion riff into a mantra as the drums fall out and you start to wonder if your copy has a skip in it, but the combination of esoteric lyrics and somewhat non-committal musicianship leaves me with little desire to go back and revisit. Live, I’m told they have a wall of amps that drives it all home, but you’d never know that from here, unless you deciphered that it is the reason why the drums were captured so muddily. Better luck next time. (http://hesitationwoundrecords.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Ichi Ni San Shi
“Here Sometime Today” b/w “Insurmountable” 7”
(Super Secret)

Shameless and useless Gary Numan rip, updated with somewhat contemporary paper-thin children’s keyboard beats on the A-side, and poor-man’s Emeralds by way of late-period Tangerine Dream (or the other way around) on the B-side, makes for a record that can’t even bring its nothingness factor up to date. The world needs more of this like it needs all of those weird groaning sounds in the sky. If you strive for quality and interesting records in your collection, the color of the vinyl shouldn’t matter, as you’ll never know. (http://www.supersecretrecords.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Innergaze
Shadow Disco 12” EP
(100% Silk)

Brooklyn synth/beat duo Innergaze follows up an experimental, dissonant debut with some smoother offerings for their inaugural 100% Silk release. I don’t wanna be too down on this bunch, or 100% Silk/Not Not Fun in general, and this record gives me good reason not to be concerned, though it’s up to listeners to consider these four cosmic, well-considered pieces to be a step forward in their evolution as a pop group, or a step back from more daring considerations. “Shadow Disco” and apparent remix “Hypnogogisco” (they really spell it out for us, huh) feature Damon Palermo of Mi Ami and Magic Touch on drums, adding hustle to instantly vintaged, factory-sealed ambiance straight out of 1983, while “Way of Life” sounds like it got lost on the way to whatever late ‘70s French/Italian co-production on Z Channel that was airing late nights in that same time frame … you know, the one where Jacqueline Bisset gets naked. Closer “What’s Your Body Doing Tonight” is a genuine throwaway, but that’s cool. Records like this serve a purpose in one or more greater schemes, the most important of which involves you, dancing and feeling good about yourself, like everyone should. With such a radical departure from their debut, let’s hope that Innergaze can keep things interesting; they certainly have the technology, now they need the inspiration. (http://www.notnotfun.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Italian Horn
The Bells of Spring 12” EP
(Dais)

Hardcore archaeologist, author, VDSQ man-at-arms, and former Revelation recording artist Anthony Pappalardo surfaces with a new, promising project for the always-on Dais label. Italian Horn operates in lo-fi guitar pop mode, and seems to leverage the songsmithery of Guided by Voices (and as tribute, cover art created by Robert Pollard himself) with the Dictaphone-quality recording and vocal treatments of Blank Dogs, the latter serving as a treatment rather than an ethos, one would hope. Still, the songs are present and winning, the mood delicate and proud, and the potential to expand upon this template greater than most records of any genre that roll through here. It’s a bit presumptuous to go all in on Italian Horn, but there is a really strong pulse beneath the surface here that signals a significant work in the near future, and here’s the first step. Such a notion doesn’t happen too often in this here review pile, so little that it’s kind of become a yearly occurrence. Ground floor, goin’ up. 300 copies. (http://www.daisrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Jefferson Mayday Mayday
G Threshold LP
(Hot Releases)

Cosmic analog synth interference clouds and distressed electro squiggles from a South Carolina musician/scientist, who seems to treat the keys on his unit like a seat or small bench (or at the very least, plays it with his butt). Recorded in Australia and other named places, this one seems a bit lost, more of a demo reel for what something like a Korg Poly Six can do when pushed to a known limit. Lots of competition in here for a free voice, and most of the tracks wind up getting choked out by the analog kudzu that invades its way in, though that seems to be the intent. Pretty out there, but those looking for more structure or any rhythm in their meditations will be let down by this one. (http://www.hot-releases.org)
(Doug Mosurock)

Kam Kama
The Tiled House 12” EP
(Sister Cylinder)

Five-piece lite Goth from Indiana, where the flatness and cornfields and general air of loss fosters this kind of music now and again (see also state-mates TV Ghost, though those guys are from Lafayette and not Bloomington, which is harder somehow). There’s not a lot of consequence here, just six songs of yearning, college campus dark rock, with a singer who closely resembles Honor Role/Coral/Dynamic Truths frontman Bob Schick in tone and delivery. That makes it OK with me, and hopefully you as well. White vinyl. (http://kamkama.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Keep On Dancin’s
The End of Everything 12” EP
(Merenoise)

Had to figure on – even count upon – the moment when all the Australian records that come into Still Single stop being as special as they once were. Perhaps this is it, then, a derivative downer steeped in Holly Golightly style maudlin and some ill-advised kinship with the blues. The country will bounce back (and already has, really), but these folks will not. They’re not selling it, you’re not buying it. (http://www.merenoise.net)
(Doug Mosurock)

Ketamines
Spaced Out LP
(Southpaw/Mammoth Cave Recording Co.)

Gelcaps hardening in the narrow Calgary sun, the Ketamines roll through a quick set of ‘60s psych-flavored pop tunes on this debut LP. Some of the songs (OK, most) push a lot of buttons at once, which displays a willfulness to subvert the genre it’s playing a part of, and that will not go unnoticed by some listeners. But the psychsploitative components of the group’s approach (current/ex-members of active/disbanded local outfits, like Myelin Sheaths and Fist City), including some bubbly synth and overloaded reverb unit bam-a-lam, keep the headspace loose and loopy. Overall Spaced Out recalls a trying-too-hard Crystal Stilts, but when you consider how many bands out there don’t even seem like they’re trying at all, there’s hope for a next record where Ketamines have everything a bit more in their grasp. 100 green vinyl, 100 blue vinyl, 300 black vinyl. (http://mammothcave.tumblr.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Koban
s/t 7” EP
(The Broadway to Boundary)

Gothy post-punk duo with drum machine. Four skeletal tracks of guitar, bass, vocals and preset beats, a flatliner if there ever were. Not sure what they’re trying to accomplish here other than maybe have fun, and possibly guilt people into taking this record off their hands. There’s absolutely nothing new or original or exciting here, just a little noise and a little muffled sentiment that stays completely inert. Who needs any more of this?!? (http://www.thebroadwaytoboundary.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Joe Kusy
Popcorn Salamander 7” EP (Founding Fathers)

Solo outing from Far-Out Fangtooth guitarist Kusy, here showing off a wildly indulgent side of his musical personality and away from the dark, pressurized howl of his main band. This is a bunch of bedroom/kitchen sink pop, glued together with epoxy and pipe cleaners, and with the tarnish of lo-fi production to match. What he’s playing sounds unfinished but vital, with the drive and mentality of the first 30 seconds of a kid set loose in a cotton candy factory. With some work – probably time, a recording budget, and some more thought – this could contend with some of the best out-there bands around. Think of this as a tiny, scarce little marker for the place he’ll go next. 50 numbered copies, and 300 of the regular press. (http://ffccrecords.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Lantern
“I Don’t Know” b/w “Out Of Our Heads” 7”
(Mammoth Cave Recording Co.)

Can-Am trade agreement band, currently whelming tens of people in Philly. What’s at stake here is … well, not much; the same old, tired Nuggets-style chestnuts, and the lack of audio fidelity hems in whatever peacocking their outta-site singer manages to peel off. “I Don’t Know” is a straight ahead frat rocker; “Out Of Our Heads” aims for the Stooges, and would get there if it didn’t sound so crap, or did something interesting in its somewhat longer running time. Probably considered to be “psychedelic” by some, and if that’s the case, I have some gym socks that will get you really high if you huff ‘em. 300 copies. (http://www.mammothcaverecording.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Little Gold
Weird Freedom LP
(Loud Baby)

Christian DeRoeck (cool guy, I say, formerly of Meneguar and Woods) was initially projecting Little Gold as a solo outlet, sad-sacking out whatever demons he had to face. With Weird Freedom, it seems like he’s gotten rid of most of them, or at least the ones that would have otherwise told him “no” when he asked “rock?” He’s left them in Brooklyn and relocated to the balmy backyards of Athens, GA, and the music thanks him for the change of scene. No real surprises here, but it’s a solid and redeeming indie rock effort, built on the shaky frame of late, booze-soaked nights, Fender Twin Reverbs, heavy feelings, dirty laundry, and the history of people traveling like vagabonds, city to city, looking for friendly faces and replying with the various acceptable, unforced forms of the indie rock we all grew up with, whether we find those faces or not. Blue vinyl. (http://loudbabysounds.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Little Queenie
“Blackout” b/w “SS Shipwreck” 7”
(Sweet Rot)

Burly, somewhat mannered garage pop out of the Bay Area (probably because it’s played with two basses and no guitars), and fronted by the iconic Mark “Icki” Murrmann, performing with the wheezing, seen-it-all presence of the Psychedelic Furs’ Richard Butler. These songs don’t have a whole lot going on, but are pleasant enough, and it’s definitely novel to hear such a band sing about drinking too much, as if the past ten years haven’t given us enough object lessons about rock & roll’s left hand path. A minor effort, saved by some touches not often heard in the genre, and by a well-balanced but tough-sounding production job care of Greg Ashley. Hopefully future efforts expand upon the potential here, or possibly let go of the garage altogether. There’s a chance to do something more within. (http://www.myspace.com/sweetrotrecords)
(Doug Mosurock)

Locrian
The Clearing LP
(Fan Death)

RECOMMENDED

This really has nothing to do with Locrian but I must reveal that a new development in music criticism has made itself known to me over the last year or two or fuck … I’m sorry, Doug, I’ve been writing for Still Single for four years. OK, creeping an arc of frequency that has lately reached one or two emails for every 10-15 reviews I turn in is this new breed of man-wafer that has absolutely no idea how to handle a negative review. I am crappin’ you negative when I state with conviction that there must be a growing number of band people who believe a negative review is a categorically wrong action. Not only that, but they believe that e-mailing me and whining about getting a dose of the ol’ “how it fucking is, pussy” in the interest of improving things for everyone … is the way to go when such peeps don’t happen to agree with something I’ve written re: their album. Here’s another bit of advice for all of those folks: Try to make an album like this one. Not an album that sounds like this one, per se, of course, but an album that checks all of the appropriate boxes (many of which have since been clogged up with dust….having gone so long without being checked). Locrian is what some ding-dongs call a “space-metal” band, but I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if that term came out of my brain-box. Fans of Jesu and Russian Circles (two current examples of exceptional musical art) will or already have gone to town all over this record. A bit of a downer, but you know what? Sad is not always bad. (http://www.fandeathrecords.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Loose Grip
Cereal 7” EP
(Bedroom Suck)

RECOMMENDED

I’ve listened to this one a few times (it’s great) and sat down to write this, and just then I get an IM asking if I’d heard anything about Brendon Annesley, the editor of Negative Guest List and proprietor of the label of the same name, that he had passed. He may not have had anything to do with Loose Grip’s debut single, but seeing as they’re an Australian band he had something to say about them, which you can find in Bedroom Suck’s description of this single. My thoughts go out to everyone affected by this loss; I did not interact with him much but he was by all accounts an ambitious, outspoken, highly expressive and talented young man with a wit sharp enough to grind keys, and a good portion of the excellent music that’s come out of Australia in the past few years got greater notice by the work he did. It wouldn’t be fair to Loose Grip to gloss over their record, which is substantial and fun in the ways that most punk and HC records to pass this way really aren’t anymore. Its five songs are rambunctious, fast, sloppy in the right places but tight where it needs to be (the staccato bursts of drumming/strumming on the title track, presumably about enjoying a bowl of breakfast cereal after a bowl of something else, as referenced on the previous track, “Baked”), and in a time when the world is falling apart, they don’t seem to be concerned with anything, outside the scope of what’s depicted here, a concept single about wake and bake, followed by some breakfast, a pernicious locked groove, a trip to McDonald’s, and a track called “Wipe the Slate” to begin it all over again the next day. Some of the riffage gets a bit poppy but the vocals of one Kieren Lavering push this into freakshow territory, barking mad and probably smiling the whole time. Biting tone and crazy aggression remind me of early Red Cross and Dr. Know; perhaps we’ve found a Southern Hemisphere tribute to ‘Nardcore. Joe Alexander jumps in on drums, as he has with the excellent Kitchen’s Floor and Per Purpose; he’s another one of the people who’s keeping all the wheels greased in his country’s musical footprint, and with the loss of Mr. Annesley, he and others are going to have to put in overtime to fill the void he’s left. Hang in there, buds. I’ve been there. It’s gonna be a hard time. Be strong. (http://www.bedroomsuckrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Lost Domain
Blondes Chew More Gum 2xLP
“Drunken Sailor” b/w “Pool” 7”
(Negative Guest List)

As part of his plan for the advancement of music, Brendon from Negative Guest List pushed forth these two missives of freely improvised rock & roll, recorded in Brisbane before he was five years old. Then known as The Invisible Empire, the group that took the name The Lost Domain (a core trio of guitarists who followed one another’s leads, here augmented by a trio of drummers), stretched and sprawled and constantly hit their heads on the low ceilings, spinning out rock/folk/blues sounds from the mind-commune of those who had enlightened themselves to the point where it became impossible to do anything but what they did here. The first of the two albums can almost be considered a normalization period, with long songs that shift in and out of their daily allotments of energy. These are a bit hard to deal with and are akin to shoveling snow, the growing notion that if you don’t have a path and start to wander, you may end up alone. Album two all but redeems the time spent in calibrating, as they touch on moments that connect the Velvets to, say, Malesch-era Agitation Free (“It’s Coming Rising”) and commit one really nasty, must-be-heard blues raga in closer “Indian War Whoop II,” the end of which sounds like one of the most glorious cassette-bound skullfuckers to come out of the ‘90s. The single is another reissue, this time from a 1999 session in which the percussion triad is swapped out for a sax/organ player and a different drummer. Sax is about the last thing this music needed, next to trumpet, which is also here; the need to ham out on said instruments overwhelms the nature of Blondes‘ finest moments and pushes us, reluctantly into an easier means of freaking out: jazz. The drunken psycho vocal rounds of “Drunken Sailor” (you know the song) drag this into an avant-garde cabaret setting in which I don’t feel comfortable, though the noise and general disenfranchisement of the whole thing will appeal to some of you sickos. “Pool” is even freer, all cymbal washes and pensive/circular drone objects vying for headroom. This is music for people who can’t stand the formalism of rock but appreciate its spirit, and as those people likely own a bunch of Dead C. and/or Country Teasers records, there’s not as much incentive to track down these expensive imports, but what if you’re new to all of this, and The Lost Domain opens that door for you? Then who are the rest of us to judge? The following link will never be updated, so you may want to look elsewhere. (http://negativeguestlist.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Lovehandles
Handled 7” EP
(West Palm Beotch)

With shared membership to the estimable Cop City/Chill Pillars, the band Love Handles drifts out of Florida with a few tropes (psychedelia, intentional weirding, hopefully drugs), with the same sort of thick, humid atmosphere that has been sponged up by CC/CP on a more distinctly pop axis. The main issue here is that some of the lesser ideas are tiptoed around in favor of the saucer-eyed warlock spell production they dump all over the top. It makes them sound like they don’t know where they’re going, like their abilities are a little stunted. Maybe this project needs a little more time to cook, but out of these six songs, they have at least one that I’ve sat here and played numerous times. “Gold Chain,” the next to last track on the single, has buried its hooks into me, a sickly and feeble little stomp that moves at the speed of an elderly person running after years of atrophy. It has a charming locomotion that owes a lot to Ariel Pink, and the melting cassette quality of the whole song somehow makes it even more enticing. I have a feeling this whole record is going to grow on me, and the earnest, pop-derived angles that they work are worthy of acknowledgement. “Gold Chain,” though, that’s the keeper. Purple vinyl. (http://westpalmbeotch.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Low Life
Sydney Darbs 7” EP
(Negative Guest List)

RECOMMENDED

Four blasts of weatherbeaten downer punk from a Sydney trio that gives “a special thanx to anyone who embraces the 9-5, day in day out, mundane, soul destroying, mindless, clock work thinking because you are why we do this.. and we fucking detest you.” That kind of attitude is still needed in punk/the seething world, and the music of Low Life suits it, all dirgelike chords, flange pedal and space-absorbing vocals that suck most of the air out of this recording, like putting a plastic bag over your head and drawing deep. Sounds like it crawled out of a pit to harass shopping centre patrons with hopelessness, blight, and demands for cigarettes. Nods to dark early ‘80s UK punk are evident, if not necessarily intentional; it all adds up to a hissing, nasty, bruising music that has nothing but disdain for the outside world, and an inner sanctum held together by symbols and mythology. In the wake of Brendon’s passing, I do hope that their album will be coming out regardless, and that this single will not be any harder to find. A real day-ruiner, and not in an easy or obvious way. Put your shoes on, dump water in them, then go about your day, and you’ll probably be upset enough to make this kind of record yourself. Visit this link for reference only: (http://negativeguestlist.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Marble Vanity
“You Can’t Step On a Rainbow” b/w “My Love Has Gone” 7”
(Slow Fizz)

The Marble Vanity is the summit of two former members of CoCoCoMa and one guy from the Hipshakes, united in their determination to shake off the stiff jacket of punk rock and embrace their parents’ music. With the guitar amps turned way down and groovy harmonies, brass, and a rollicking harpsichord at the top of the mix, the A-side comes on like the 1910 Fruitgum Company trying to be a happy Left Banke, and that’s not a bad thing at all; sometimes you just want to suck on a sugar cube, no matter what the dentist told you. The b-side is another matter. Combining Beach Boys harmonies and Byrds-y guitars is only a good idea if you can hit the notes; the sad singing on “My Love Has Come” just begs for some cigar-chomping stereotype to stomp into the studio, ball them out, and then pay some professional back-up singers to do it for them. But who needs two songs when you’ve got transparent vinyl, an attractively textured two color print job, and a compulsory spinner on the a-side? There’s an LP on the way, hope they get it right. Harpsichords change everything. (http://www.slowfizzrecords.com)
(Bill Meyer)

Martyr Privates
“Bless” b/w “Native Son” 7”
(Bon Voyage)

Brisbane psych-garage trio that clings to the psych side, a la early Spacemen 3 or slightly less fucked-up American counterparts. Both tracks have kind of a stately feel about them that doesn’t dissipate in the gritty recording or workmanlike songwriting/playing. Neither one is too exciting, but play them a bunch of times and you’ll find things to like, such as their insistence on overdubbing a single-note lead over the rhythm guitar, and how they wisely push that a bit higher up in the mix. As far as the psychedelic part of this band goes, there’s a lot of competition and any of the good bands around today could easily meet or exceed what the Privates put down. For the garage side, however, this record is like a bunch of charm school graduates who have learned to push any attitude towards the music itself, rather than have a front man project it, and makes it seem like there’s a viable alternative to all that dismal Fonzie nonsense (Fonz-sense?) that keeps getting dumped in my bin. 300 numbered copies, Australian import. Duh. (http://bonvoyage.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Master Cylinder
301 N Everett Rd LP
(Ramblin’)

Michigan rock ‘n’ roll outfit, clearly on the wavelengths of what Lester Bangs and Greg Shaw were pushing at the time (here, a vague mid-’70s to early ‘80s run, which extended well after the notions of Flamin’ Groovies style rock – all periods – were proven to remain viable). If you’ve heard the bands that inspired them, then it’s clear that these guys took more than they gave back, claims of a high-energy live show notwithstanding. This LP collects their studio recordings and demos with no frills, not even dates of recording, and a lot of it sounds like it was way past expiration even when it was new. There’s not a lot out there on this band and I feel like I know even less about them having listened to this record.
(Doug Mosurock)

Dan Melchior
Catbirds & Cardinals LP
(Northern-Spy)
“Red Nylon Valance” b/w “Dogbite Meltdown #1” 7”
(SDZ)
Excerpts (& Half-Speeds) LP
(Kye)

RECOMMENDED

At this point Dan Melchior only makes worthwhile records. There are many, and nearly all of them go in a different direction, sometimes within the context of that release. He may be … scratch that, he is our most consistent singer-songwriter among those who’ve been prolific at every stage of their careers, and should at least be as widely known and accepted as guys like Robert Pollard and Nick Saloman. Catbirds, from last year, is one of Melchior’s finest in recent memory, at least as good as his last landmark Christmas for the Crows, and definitely the “pastoral” selection in his catalog, with some of the most good-natured melodies and gentlest interpretations of his nickelodeon psych-pop side. Opener “Summer in Siberia” finally contextualizes Dan into someone other than his musical persona: he’s kinda like Mark Corrigan from “Peep Show,” framing an imbalanced relationship in the context of WWII ground battles and appeasement. That comparison holds as long as you want it to, but apart from “Drama Queens on Prozac,” the sort of kneejerk hipster takedown that seems to appear on all his records, there are more moments of transcendence here than casual listeners might expect The “Red Nylon Valance” single offers up two brooders, a direction in which Melchior doesn’t often look, but he nails them both, quiet/loud Midwestern dynamics drawing lightning bolts out of the tension “Valance” generates, and leaving it unresolved with a percussion-free murmur called “Dogbite Meltdown #1.” The limited edition Excerpts (& Half-Speeds) outpaces his other 2011 album Assemblage Blues as his most abstract offering to date, and there’s nothing like it in his body of work, or most others. It’s two sides of fragments and non-song experiments in drone, astrospatial projection, subdued melodies and analog delay, all Orchid Spangiafora with no troubadour in sight, until some blues riffs materialize and level everything out. Anyone else would have to sweat to pull together such an effort, but Excerpts is superior to the best most folks can offer, and proof that even this guy’s leftovers are flecked with gold. (http://www.northern-spy.com)
(http://sdzrecords.free.fr)
(http://kyerecords.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Mentally Ill
Gacy’s Place 7” EP
(Last Laugh)

RECOMMENDED

Yet another KBD monster repressed for modern appreciation. How many bootlegs would you have to buy to get the three songs from this torpedo bonzer? How would you ever figure out that the layer of GNARL on the guitar track was intentional and not just some artifact left over from a bad tape transfer? Decades after the fact, “Gacy’s Place” is still shocking, both in lyrical content and the overall unruly nature of the song overall. Everyone involved sounds like they had been smoking dust for a few days before tearing this one out of their collective psyche, and what’s better is that they had even more in them. Great drumming, a flat-packed production that actually helps songs this outrageous, and UNHINGED presence from every member of this old Chicago group justify its classic status. And some of you will be happy to know that “Padded Cell” and “Tumor Boy” are almost as good, and would blow away most inept punkers of ‘79 or any other year. Last Laugh Records = GREAT IDEA. (http://lastlaughrecords.us)
(Doug Mosurock)

Milk Music
Almost Live CS
(self-released)

live recordings made on milk music’s 2011 u.s. tour, provided by the esteemed wfmu in jersey city, nj. couple newer/as yet unreleased jams, “violence now” from the nuts! flexi, two from the 12” and one from their demo. i got to chill with these dudes last summer over a couple of days and they are on a mission for sure, solid bros with nothin’ to lose, cruisin’ across the land in the crumb coyote. this set has been circulated a bit already, but the tape version rules/is necessary to own for a few reasons. first, this band sounds great on tape, and they managed to get the atmosphere of what tapes were like back in the day down pretty well. the only thing missing was that fruity smell that’d hit you when you opened up a new prerecorded tape from the music store. second, they cut out all the dead parts, so you don’t have to listen to them tune or whatever. this also accounts for the post-set interview with brian turner going missing, but you can easily seek out the files and hear it for yourself if you need to. third, it seems like they sped it up just a little bit. it could have been my walkman, but these songs seem a little faster than i recall, and that’s fine. fourth, they fit the entire set exactly onto one side of the tape, and it repeats on the other side, so you can jam it back to back to back without much of a break. finally, they named this tape after the long-running, now-in-reruns sketch comedy show based out of seattle, the one that comedy central used to air in the ‘90s. shit bumped up after “snl” ended when i was out that way earlier this year, all those memories came rushing back. a.d.i.d.a.s.? how about a.d.i.d.a.n.g. (all day i dream about nancy guppy)? that might make the lame list but these are no high fivin’ white guys we’re talkin’ about here. the set by milk music that i caught was really good, though you could sorta tell that the club had wanted nothing to do with this band, and vice versa. i detected a little bit of civic rivalry going on. who pulls the plug on the only band people are actively enjoying? anyway they’re a four-piece now (if you met their roadie, charles, last summer, he’s now their second guitarist) which freed al up to play more leads. they are chill as fuuuuuck and i woulda done an interview with them if we coulda made it back down to olympia, but seattle is ill-equipped to deal with an unexpected snowstorm, so we didn’t get too far. this was a boon as we got to watch the whole city shut down, streets become barricaded, and people sledding down them and toking from bongs on the street. every time i listen to milk music i get stoked, and i can also see a bunch of people starting up bands that soundalike, people with $$ for eyes getting weird, and these dudes hopefully brushing it all off, retreating to the american southwest, and making the album that they have in ‘em. i’ve got a wild feeling that they are going to knock it out. tape sold out instantly but may come back into print. not sure how many copies were made. a real good time.
(Doug Mosurock, written in the narrator’s voice for the blog load-8-1.tumblr.com)

Mind Over Mirrors
Near Your Dwelling 7”
(Dirty Knobby)
Small Portion CS
(Digitalis)

The whole point of inventing the harmonium was to make an organ-like instrument that was portable. But in the fall of 2011 Jaime Fennelly, a member of Peeesseye who records solo as Mind Over Mirrors, turned this virtue on its head by flying across the Atlantic to lay hands on one. These two releases are chiefly products of his sojourn in a repurposed lockmaster’s house in Antwerpen, Belgium, which is now used as an artist’s residence. The instrument in question is a positive pipe organ (yep, that’s its proper name; it’s pronounced po-si-TEEV, keyboard nerds), a somewhat more upscale variety of luggable organ than the Indian harmonium that Fennelly usually uses.

Mind Over Mirrors’ music is all about saturated sound. Fennelly plays his pump organ through a battery of oscillators and effects that extend and distort its tones to obtain in-the-red highs, chest-rattling mids, and low notes as bulbous and squeezable as a slightly underinflated inner tube. On previous releases he’s augmented this set-up with piano and applied it to a variety of sonic forms, but on these records he bears down on the churn of repeated patterns with remorseless intent. The Dirty Knobby single, which comes wrapped in a swell color sleeve that depicts another Belgian art space set up in a huge old greenhouse, contrasts keyboards as well as velocities. The Antwerpen track “Emblem” is a slow march through the low frequencies, paced so that the heaviest smoker could keep up whilst dragging his oxygen tank down a cobble-stoned sidewalk. On the other side, “This Thing Ain’t Gonna Be Floating Too Much Longer Now” picks up the pace and the pitch, perhaps reflecting the impatient pace of Chicago’s foot traffic, and its repetitious cycles through a few notes are even more dogged. Unlike the rest of the music under discussion here, Fennelly recorded it at home with his regular harmonium. Even so, it doesn’t sound drastically different from the keyboard Fennelly crossed an ocean to play. Maybe he was really lured by the chance to spend a couple weeks quaffing the local brews? Who could blame if that were so? Whatever his motive, the results are a pretty swell introduction to the MOM sound.

Small Portion comprises just two tracks, both of which are around ten minutes long. “Barely Spun (Again)” maintains the trance-inducing lockstep of Near Your Dwelling’s tracks, while “Curious Shape” freezes into a cloud of gray feedback before resuming motion at a crawl. Essentially this is a cassingle, and it exemplifies both the virtues and pitfalls of its format. MOM’s jams benefit from duration, accumulating hypnotic effect as the minutes tick over, so the option to put this thing in a reversible deck and let it play all day is most welcome, but that effect could be undermined by the stretches of empty tape at the end of each side. The muffling effect of tape magnifies the music’s bulbosity, which may or may not suit your taste; personally I’d rather hear both tracks splayed across a twelve inch record and spinning at 45 rpm, but maybe we have to wait for the techno remix to get that? The tape comes in an edition of 125, and 500 of the singles were pressed on black vinyl.
(http://www.dirtyknobby.com)
(http://www.digitalisindustries.com)
(Bill Meyer)

Mondo Ray
“Hypnotized” b/w “Nothing” 7”
(Windian)

Probably rocks pretty hard for people who really need to listen to WAY MORE music. German band with a synth and a desire to steer completely clear of anything even remotely interesting. This is so boring that it doesn’t even warrant the slightest expenditure of wit on my part. Great fodder for enthusiasts of the “rock is dead” mantra. 500 pressed, with the first 100 on green. (http://windianrecords.wordpress.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Moore/Majeure
Brainstorm split LP
(Temporary Residence)

While Zombi, the band for which Steve Moore and Tony Paterra became known, is more of a once in a while sort of thing, both musicians have kept active with their solo careers. This is the first pairing, to my knowledge, of Zombi’s two halves on the same record. It stays the course for both artists as well: driving synth/Italian horror soundtrack/dawn of New Age tropes, played for authenticity and touches of innovation, as a continuation of where this music began rather than a copycat facsimile of such. Both guys are real musicians with significant talent, and this always comes through on the releases they put their names on. Brainstorm is no exception, though at times it feels like they’ve covered this sort of territory before, though to be honest, there isn’t much room to expand on this template without losing what makes the music work. Zombi has an expansive sound specifically because of the use of acoustic instruments and a heightened expectation to develop. Alone, both artists stick to synths and drum computers exclusively, which would be limiting to many, but feels second nature in their competent hands. Moore offers up four meditations from deep within the hearts of space; as Majeure, Paterra cuts one fearsome 20 minute side that takes on the sort of tinny, pressurized percussive attack and synth lead somewhere in the middle that would make Ruggero Deodato blush. For fans of the artist or genre, this will not disappoint. 1000 copies, of which 200 are on colored vinyl (100 blue/white and 100 yellow/white).
(http://www.temporaryresidence.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Mountain Cult
s/t 7” EP
(self-released)

RECOMMENDED

I see a band that advertises a 7” release party at Pianos and have to wonder about them. I used to book there and I know what that shit is about. Too many Dandy Warhols wannabes, too much of the dishonest and alluring ruse of friend rock as it aligns with corporate cock, bands still trying to “make it.” But can something like Mountain Cult’s single actually get there? Can it even get out the front door and down the block for coffee and a sandwich from the bodega? They play a style of deconstructed blues rock that can only come from a lack of instrumental proficiency, but the band sounds so monged out and wasted that it couldn’t really matter. They’re doing the best they can under such a heavy fog, and it’s to their benefit, sounding authentically broken, high on the right stuff (and to a hair’s breadth away from complete ego death; this is strictly id output all the way), and disjointed to the point where if they learned how to play proper, the results wouldn’t be half as interesting. The rope has permanently gone slack as far as this release is concerned, though, that brilliant moment that dents the psyche happening over and over again, rewound and in slow motion. It’s enough to anger anyone who takes music seriously. Budding psychonauts, this is your box of broken toys. Build a temple and smash it. 300 copies. (http://mountaincult.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Nadja & Galena
Konstruktion LP
(Adagio 830)

When you go through a lot of records by a lot of bands as we do here, you tend to miss out on the ones that put out a zillion releases, even if you get sent a bunch of them to cover. Nadja is like that. Never really had a chance to get into their music, though they were a minor bright spot in the whole collect-’em-all/flip-’em-hard period of music when it seemed like labels were never going to recover (let’s face it, most won’t), the dollar was weak and the Euro strong. The Wolf Eyes days, so to speak. Anyway, this is a mix of low ambient guitar chug and tiny black metal suggestions, put together into darkened, downer drone tracks. I’m sure if you dig back into the annals of Still Single you will find me complaining about music which does things the hard way, like trying to build a sustained, moving piece of dronework with the wrong tools. Any dude with a sound source or a mixer could do it better than the assemblage of Nadja with the duo Galena, but I guess people are coming at Nadja with other expectations in mind. I’m not, though, and I find the potential for superunit status (see Vaura) well squandered here, neither half of the whole giving up too much on side A. The B-side “High Sea & Turbulence” is where you start to see inklings of process bearing out positive results, as a long and toothsome opening volley of harmonic drone builds into fuzzed-out, methodical, slow-to-mid bales of squall, set to washing-machine rhythms and a gauzy, gazey stare outwards to the shore, no matter how far away it might be from water. That really saves this one, but only by a bit. It would help everyone if someone curated a “best of” out of Nadja, honestly. I know some of you are like “what’s the point” but any band can only have so many truly great moments, and it’d be nice to remember them further along, as the sweep of history brushes them away. (http://adagio830.de)
(Doug Mosurock)

Nocht the Only Ghouls
s/t LP
(Vwyrd Wurd)

RECOMMENDED

Self-styled black metal arrives on the wind, an ominous but very natural groan against ephemerally oppressed living, with only the mosquito-distorted guitar providing any real semblance of BM posturing. It’s an odd but mostly intriguing effort by two guys from eastern Pennsylvania who rely on sounds of nature and anticipated/antiquated (anticiquated?) stirrings of fear from within their works to draw their web of mystery. This is pretty far off the path of most things I can think of, and sounds like the work of goblins, with real brain-stem/fight-or-flight instinct that keeps the subspecies alive. The natural hasn’t been made to sound so unnatural for a while. Only 100 copies, red vinyl, includes several pages of typewritten manuscript chronicling a story that frames the music. (http://vwyrdwurd.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Noh Mercy
s/t LP
(Superior Viaduct)

RECOMMENDED

Now It Can Be Told. Noh Mercy, undisputed stars of the Earcom 3 comp (well, along with the Middle Class), were responsible for “No Caucasian Guilt,” a song that raced up my spine at a younger age and still rests as a singular experience, having never heard anything quite like it before or since. The song is short and very direct, nothing but a scorching female voice and a sniper on drums, putting forth the argument that they were not responsible to absorb the crimes of their ancestors. It got the SF-based duo, the end result of two women growing up around music, through the ‘60s and ‘70s, and on the fringes of the counterculture in terms of politics, sexuality, and chemicals, banned from the Mabuhay Gardens for a good piece of its short existence, power vocalist Esmerelda and drummer Tony Hotel running a windsprint of percussive aggression and fire-breathing torch song first as “On the Rag” and later as Noh Mercy, until the two disbanded around 1980. The group’s mystery has only intensified over the years, as their two released songs led towards a fruitless search for more. Now it has been found, a full album’s worth of studio recordings (and four bonus live tracks on the CD and download versions), supported by rich, fascinating liner notes about the lives and times of the women who made it. As anticipated, the drums/vocals only setup (one of the group’s mottos being “No Boys On Guitars!”) could only hold for so long, with half of the studio tracks featuring synthesizers to provide a countermelody to Esmerelda’s dominating vocal presence. It doesn’t matter, though, because they say the most when they’re at the peak of skeletal force, and that comes across whether backed with a lone instrument or simply unadorned. The frustrations they must have felt when writing and arranging these tracks, including a few necessary covers of the Beatles and the Doors, seem like timeless artifacts, germs of unrest, the sort of sound that makes you question the values you hold, and why you’re not out there screaming in defiance to every injustice the world brings you. The group now appears to be a required precursor to Riot Grrrl, the feminist response band to the punk community, dressed in cast-off couture and geisha face paint. Superior Viaduct again, as with the Black Humor reissue, displays a knack for getting it right, with an essential eight-page booklet that debunks the tale of the group, and the inspiring, wild personal histories of its participants, along with photos and eyewitness reports from friends who survived the era. It seems as if the participants have found peace with the world, which makes this a good a time as any for Noh Mercy’s work to be appreciated on a greater level. A mandatory acquisition; way better than, like, D&V. Clear vinyl. (http://www.superiorviaduct.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Northern Liberties
Glowing Brain Garden LP
(self-released)

RECOMMENDED

Even those with active new music intake can only hope to hear about five to ten records of this power and transcendence in one lifetime. So, I’m torn between two or twenty-eight different attitudes when faced with the task of actually reviewing something like this. One of them goes like this: “There might be art I will never be qualified to comment on. Yep, face it, Mr. Summer School AFTER 12th Grade In Order To Genuinely Graduate in….the…..hou…” And another goes like this: “Is this some sort of a joke or a ‘90’ reissue that is doing exactly what the reissue game is supposed to do (unearth brilliance that was overlooked the first time around)?” That I might be suspicious of something this consummately uplifting and powerful is 100% commentary on the sad state of affairs elsewhere on the tunes-ville landscape…or is it? The weird and terrifying degradation of underground rock – it is finally happening in an Illuminati sense despite the crying-wolf nature of saying so in public and despite the fact that no one will really believe me or you if this happens to be an adopted party-line in the near future – has not brainwashed me into some peanut-butter cognitive mush that hugs and embraces and spews superlative soup all over anything that simply DOESN’T SUCK. No, this album is one of the best ten long-players I’ve ever heard within the context of contemporary….aka “post-1985” underground rock/hardcore/punk/indie/noise-rock, etc. And that’s it. What awaits those lucky enough to get their hands on one of the remaining (??) 300 copies? Imagine if Cop Shoot Cop had GBV hooks along with the best moments of Scott Walker singing into the heavens. It’s a drummer (oh, what a drummer…), a vocalist/percussionist (playing what is probably a stand-up kit rather than this being a double-drummer set-up) and a bassist playing the fucking instrument like Lou Barlow taught everyone who was listening and properly processing Dinosaur Jr’s You’re Living All Over Me (an album also in that aforementioned top ten). Get this. Hear this. This is the sound of hope and inspiration and it made me feel something I wasn’t ever planning to feel again. (http://www.northernlibertiesband.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Nova Scotia/Eye
split 12”
(Tipped Bowler Tapes)

Two far-flung groups of New Zealand improvisers get deep in the Drone Zone, each claiming one track per side of this release. Nova Scotia hails from Wellington and plays like the Dead C. with horns, and in an expansive, cloud-minded warehouse instead of the void/pit where the latter normally records. They work up a head of steam on a big, cacophonous, steady stream of dissonant noise called “A Million Corpses of Dead Bees,” punctuated by four-on-the-floor drumming and cymbal crashes, owing to an order which the rest of the musicians here never seem to find. Still, it’s refreshing to hear two different musical texts being read at once, particularly on the points where they convene. The music will not revive any bees, but the imagery is enough, and the track winds down into nothing, as it should. Eye is from Dunedin, features local music legend Peter Stapleton, and after a LONG stretch of formless drone, analog synth twiddle and general unease, they launch into a big, angry, aggressive tomahawk chopper, guitars screaming and squelching feedback, electronics being pushed to their limit (sounds like the same synth used on the Dadamah record, really), and a big cataclysmic denouement all but certain. “High Road” is sleepy enough and will anger more than a few listeners, but the payoff is there, and formidable. Decent enough; anyone who has records like this and is not a NZ diehard might find cheaper thrills elsewhere, but for that small sliver of the populace, this will warm whatever cockles you have left. 250 copies. (http://www.tippedbowler.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Nude Beach
II LP
(Nude Beach Records)

Though the pop-punk elements of Nude Beach’s sound are apparently still relevant to the band’s live show, II finds the Brooklyn power-pop trio really going for it, pushing a realistic and determined Dwight Twilley/Tom Petty sort of agenda against the odds this sort of music carries with it. They project confidence, which this music needs, bravado where it helps, and get through it most of the way unscathed – since this is a power-pop record, there’s gonna be a ballad in there somewhere which drags down the whole enterprise. Still, they do an admirable job with this album, a big step forward into already-extant footprints for songwriting, performance and presence, and they seem to have no qualms about staring at the glass ceiling that power-pop has all but built itself. Where they’re headed could easily go the wrong way – Titus Andronicus, Gaslight Anthem, and the like – and here’s hoping that the next album, if there is one, keeps true. But there’s no point in planning these guys’ next moves for them, and from the looks of things, they don’t care much either; this is their moment, they’re not gonna waste it. Perhaps that’s the best way to go about it: unconcerned with anything but looking and sounding cool, and able to convince most of the people you come in contact with that you are, indeed, The Shit. Would fit fine along recent Marked Men and side project releases (or an episode of Fantasy Island wherein a struggling rock band wishes themselves signed to Shelter Records in 1976), and these guys will probably be coming to your town at some point this summer, so put some beer on ice and bring condoms if you need ‘em, because the guys in Nude Beach probably won’t have any. (http://nudebeach.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Ela Orleans
NEO PI-R LP
(Clan Destine)

The Ela Orleans records I’ve heard – an old EP and now this full-length; I gladly skipped over her split with Dirty Beaches – sound like a person who is performing in a costume, constantly evading her identity and not giving us a chance to see much of it either. What the music tells us about Ela Orleans is that it is as much a role as it is a person, if not more so, one with a tapestry of low-key recyclings that compose the backdrop for the character to act upon. Almost every track on NEO PI-R is based on some sort of simple loop or turntable manipulation, sometimes augmented with voice or instrument, other times allowed to stand on their own against all sorts of green/alien effects treatment and frequency squelch. In this case (and against the carefully-cultivated identity of something along the same lines, like, oh, say, Dirty Beaches), the evasion of imagery that leads to a fixed presence behind these tracks is one of the main things that redeems most of NEO PI-R, where the artist’s ingenuity and drive to create a world where sound lives, rather than foist signifier-dependent ideas on the world we know, successfully builds up the mystery required to keep up that appearance, whatever it may be. Not all of it works, as it feels like some of the tracks depart into irony before too long, but there are moments on this record that show a new, cloaked path being forged, even with something so simple as a skipping classical or easy listening record at its heart, the world silencing itself to take in its abnormal beauty. This doesn’t make me eager to seek out any of Orleans’ earlier work for comparison, but it does bode well for the next move. 250 copies. (http://clandestine.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Palo Verde
Zero Hour LP
(Phratry)

Four long exercises in guitar/drum instrumental riff waggling, lightly improvised in a clean, precise studio environment. Palo Verde is a rock duo that highlights nearly all the faults of the rock duo genre, chief among which being that they sound like half a band. They can play just fine, but with one instrument making music and the other making rhythm, there is precious little else to fill the space here. And it’s not “what they’re not playing that counts” in this case – apart from a little organization at the start of each track, most of these long, wandering pieces sound like warm up at band practice. You can go to almost any Guitar Center in the world, and if you’re there at the right time, you can hear something this thought out. You can also find a guitar/drums duo that sounds like they thought about what they’d like to present to the world beforehand, too. (http://www.phratryrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Parton Kooper Planetarium
Glass & Bone LP
(Static Cult)

Extra-creepy noise-drone-pop with spoken-sung vocals and an interest in UFOs (if their videos are to be taken at more than face value). From some folks who date back to Mohinder, if my sources are correct, and you’d be doing good to imagine the farthest place rock can go from that of Mohinder if allowed 15 – 20 years to do so. Interesting and worth assessing if you like the type of interesting that isn’t a 100% enjoyable listening experience. Could use the emotional tug and pull this stuff needs to succeed in becoming a keeper. (http://partonkooperplanetarium.tumblr.com)
(Andrew Earles)

The Pheromoans
Darby, Joan & Fosters LP
(Clan Destine)

The Pheromoans continue to evade account of an accurate pulse check, changing and reshaping their sound in efforts to write themselves into history, or entertain the sort of severe, frowning, sweater-baring repression as depicted on the back cover of Put the Music In Its Coffin. For most of the quick runtime of the urbane-sounding Darby, Joan & Fosters, the group, its ranks swollen to six members, plays the most reined-in set I’ve heard from them yet, recorded with clarity and no frills, in the disorganized and cool vibe of an inept dinner-club jazz, or as some finger-wagging C-n-C sprawl, eel-like and spontaneous. At moments it sounds like they are just fucking with us, yet in the gentle acoustic intro, junkshop Casio drumline, and foreboding lyrics, they achieve a depth missing from their core sound. Then it’s gone. Then it’s back again, so tense on closer “A Hero’s Welcome” that it feels like the record itself could shatter during playback. And even that doesn’t last. Credit the Pheromoans for really working their niche, but it doesn’t hurt to think about its existence, either, or their conception of how a group of songs on a record should hold itself together. 250 copies. (http://clandestinerecords.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Plates of Cake
s/t LP
(All Hands Electric)

“Thank-You for purchasing the 12” vinyl edition of Plates of Cake – Self-Titled (AHE-11) To obtain your free download, please go to this exact web address:http://sittingthroughthisrecordisneckandneckwithhavingoneshemorrhoidstreatedwithAndyCappsHotFries.com.” The sentiment “Thank You” does not require a word-joining dash, but those choosing the phrase “Self-Titled” as a proper album title DO get to dress their knuckle sandwiches at the salad bar free of charge. I’d describe what this sounded like if it mattered and if I remembered what it sounded like but an Erectus Monotone EP is now on my turntable because it was on the bottom shelf … do you know how hard it is to crawl across the floor on your elbows and hold your ears at the same time? (http://www.allhandselectric.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Plates of Cake
“As If The Choice Were Mine” b/w “Transit Trials” 7”
(All Hands Electric)

George Carlin used to say that watching golf was like watching flies fuck. I always loved that joke, despite a childhood-to-present-day habit of finding relaxation in the ambiance of golf quietly oozing from some crappy TV speakers. The best thing I can say about having to endure a Plates of Cake 7” after sitting through several spins of that full-length is that it wasn’t like having to remove dead leaves from people’s hair at a retirement home for ten hours a day. I know for a fact that there are one too many of these 7”s out there. (http://www.allhandselectric.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Powerblessings
s/t 7” EP
(Manhattan Chemical and Electronic)

Powerblessings calls to mind the ugliness exemplified by those bands from various ‘90s indie rock scene subsets who never dismissed hardcore as a formative ingredient: the Cows, Steel Pole Bathtub, Kepone, Hammerhead (see collection of that guy you know who lives the noise rock lifestyle for more). But they whittle it down even further, to the basest essentials for a set that seizes you by the collar and screams its urgency in your face. All you need is here: a tightly wound rhythm section with their gear shift stuck on mid-tempo, a guitar tone sharpened to a dry, midrangey point with which to etch Ginn-soaked riffs into memory; hold the dynamics and math/prog tendencies, but pour on a double helping of punk/hardcore knuckledrag. The singer (either Chris, Jon, Jon or Nick according to the spartan credits) hollers with a throaty vocal fry that keeps numbers like “Go to Hell” with one foot in the fucking pit, despite a standout segment of chimy, higher-register guitar consonance. The churning “Stunt Whale” is a 1995 time capsule find, and at this point if you really had to identify a compositional schtick that might get tiresome over a longer program, it might be the band’s tendency to telegraph their changes with brief guitar lead-ins. Sounds fine here. The regimen continues admirably on the flip side, with no curveballs thrown over the courses of “In the Men’s Room of the Sixteenth Century” and “Wet Ones.” Thanks for a solid effort on nice thick vinyl in a glossy cardstock jacket with oozy green logo illustration. Also enclosed in my promo copy is a tremendously polite note that claims that this band sounds like a bunch of other bands that they don’t sound much like. Labels and bands, in your zeal to sell the sizzle and not the steak, please resist the temptation of the pre-emptive strike. Just send us a respectable Extended Play that – as in this case – says what it needs to say with conviction and leaves us wanting more. It’s a win-win. (http://manhattanchemicalandelectronic.bigcartel.com)
(Adam MacGregor)

Psychobuildings
s/t 12” EP
(All Hands Electric)

Synth-led postpunk/wavo ensemble featuring Peter Schuette, late of Silk Flowers. Psychobuildings plays it a lot more awake and active sounding than that group, pushing in a danceable direction somewhere between early DFA 12”s and a frilly/cold new wave decadence that too often takes the back seat to bass grooves and disco moves. Slight but altogether enjoyable. (http://www.allhandselectric.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Purity Supreme
Always Already 12” EP
(Ash International)

Late night crooning amidst a dark carnival backdrop, a collaboration between lyricist and would-be raconteur Leslie Winer and guitarist Christophe Vah Huffel, late of cool-trafficking French band Tanger. Van Huffel has no problem building whatever moods are appropriate for the Joe Frank poetry slam antics of the whispering, leering Winer, be they the unwanted vibes of a mysterious drifter, or a worn-down novelist penning similes for cents. All the lyrics are on the front cover, so if you ever happen to run across this one, read it and be forewarned; listening to this dreck recorded won’t provide much greater of a thrill. (http://www.ashinternational.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Red Mass
“Television Personalities” b/w “Kill It From the Inside” 7”
(Mammoth Cave Recording Co.)

I’ll admit it – I don’t like these Red Mass records too much, never really did to be honest, and that they keep coming, each one as erratic and at the same time oddly faithful to some of the most hackneyed parts of rock ‘n’ roll history, is kind of a bummer. I may not sound too upset, because there’s nothing here worth getting upset over, just some dude from Montreal who probably has a mustache, playing amorphous garage/post-punk/doo wop with some alienating vocal effect that makes the whole thing a lot more annoying than it does weird, which I don’t think dude was going for. Some people are pro-Choyce but that name isn’t even fair. I don’t even know the guy! And that’s a loaded question anyway, but the little bon mot you just read is more entertaining than either side of this shitpuck. (http://mammothcave.tumblr.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Roommate
Guilty Rainbow LP
(Antephonic)

Everyone loves this record. You can’t swing a bat (during a certain type of Google search) without hitting a glowing review of this obnoxious nonsense. That just proves that roving masses of online music “writers” (term is used in every sense but serious) are still trying to reach an out-of-court settlement with their ears and honest processing of modern sounds. The house band for an upcoming FEMA/HAARP concentration camp near you. Check it out if you dig warmed-over glitchtronica with an embarrassing lyrical tendency. Edition of 300. (http://www.antephonic.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Scorch Trio with Mars Williams
Made In Norway 2xLP
(Rune Grammofon)

While literally true – this live record was recorded at gigs in Oslo and Bergen, Norway – the title doesn’t ring quite true. The original Scorch Trio was an all-Scandinavian ensemble, but none of the guys on this double LP get all of their mail in Europe. Drummer Frank Rosaly and multi-reedist Mars Williams are from Chicago, electric guitarist Raoul Björkenheim is a Finn living in New York, and electric bassist Ingebrigt Håker Flaten may be Norwegian but he lives in Texas. They just have to fly to Norway to put together a string of decent-paying gigs, and how fucked up is that? Pretty fucked, given how effectively this combo combines variants of jazz that usually stand in opposition to each other. Björkenheim deals Mahavishnu-style note-bursts with fluency as well as rapidity; that’s not a style that generally meshes well with darting sopranino lines or hard-blown free tenor phrases, but he and Williams play off of each other in an effective manner. And while one might expect Håker Flaten’s heavy, funk-like lumps to fall right through the then spots in Rosaly’s percussive lattices, they fit right into the pattern. When Rosaly first recorded with this group a couple years ago, they seemed to retrench, but in retrospect it seems like they were pulling back catapult-style. Now they’ve let loose. Vinyl only, 500 copies on white vinyl, and the gatefold cover is so pretty you’ll want to lock it up safely when the dope-cleaners come over. (http://www.runegrammofon.com)
(Bill Meyer)

Scraps
Secret Paradise 7” EP
(Disembraining)

RECOMMENDED

Laura Hill (Scraps to the outside world) turned up here a little while back with Classic Shits, an album’s worth of Casio pop from a number of years ago out of her bedroom in Brisbane. Years later, the project is still active, and even better, with three new songs which have more of an eye on what’s going on now, and a better understanding of the “button” a good pop song needs to come across as well as these ones do. What’s more, she gets it done through a very limited means of expression (‘80s synths and vocals, run through ProTools and arranged to her satisfaction) that works for what she’s doing. “1982” is like a two-minute dash through the recorded histories of both Stereolab and Broadcast, but against the cadence of a jilted wordsmith, staying on the beat and cramming the whole thinig with contextually novel lyrics. It’s so great I just listened to it again. “Simple Mind” runs a racing beat and rides some high-frequency scales up and down in its drive to get you moving, and “Secret Paradise” features this killer vocal break that puts me in the mind of Nite Jewel. Every one of these songs stands out, and the single is so short you’ll just flip it over and start again. Might be on the twee/pop side of things for some of my readers, but others who know better will want to track this down, no matter what. (http://disembraining.tumblr.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Sediment Club
Time Decay Now LP
(Softspot Music)

RECOMMENDED

Nothing’s changed about Sediment Club, who at first I didn’t really rate as a force in NYC rock music – Voidoid Ivan Julian is back behind the board, the band is a little older, three of the four songs on their 7” are repeated on Time Decay Now, their first album. Yet in a homogeneous context of skronky, groove-attack art punk, these songs get it done, with a heart and circulatory system set to spread idiosyncratic, wonky, insistent rhythms akin to Watt/Hurley, or more specific, the Pittsburgh band Swob, whose harsh, anti-melodic scrape underscored my teen and college years. Not that arcade references are what you or anyone in this band needs to hear at this point, but Sediment Club shares that same strange, nervous energy, mechanical insistence, and bug-eyed/beyond crazy vocalisms, and it goes a pretty long way for them. Unlike a lot of acts that mimick no-wave ideas to the point where the original bands’ content is flattened in the process, for instance the unfortunate line between, like, Mars and AIDS Wolf that never needed to be drawn, there isn’t any sort of driving imperative to annoy or distort history here – it’s more or less a bunch of kids giving us their take on a generation that came here well before them, and they treat it with respect and ingenuity. Great job. (http://www.softspotmusic.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Ty Segall/The Feeling of Love
split 7”
(Permanent)

RECOMMENDED

It seems like only yesterday I was covering Traditional Fools records here and now that band’s Ty Segall has simply exploded, with more records (and more press) than almost any of his contemporaries in Bay Area garage/trad rock circles. Only Thee Oh Sees get more dap, and with Segall starting to run laps around them and most other bands in terms of prolific, overall quality output, he seems to be the horse everyone’s betting on. I haven’t covered him much here because he already seems to have moved beyond the need for someone to explain to you what he’s doing, but I’m sure none of you needed my help to suss out whether this guy was the real deal. It’s telling that even on a tour split like this, he brings a song (here, “It’s a Problem”) that most dudes who’d love to be in his position just can’t write, a quality ‘60s folk-rock burnout round with thoughtful arrangements and production, a piano that kicks in a wonderful rhythmic quality, and above-board guitar wheedlin’ that highlights his innate talents without showing them off. France’s The Feeling of Love are not known for making bad or even average records, and the slight slippage between their stellar OK Judge Revival LP and its follow-up Dissolve Me is not felt on their offering, a VU-styled stomper called “I Could Be Better Than You But I Don’t Wanna Change.” Rickety Kiwi organ, confident strum, excellent trap work and cool vocals put this about the same place as most of this band’s output, which is in a zone of value. A solid effort by two reliable parties. 750 copies (200 yellow, 550 black). (http://www.permanentrecordschicago.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Shoppers/Panzram
split 7” EP
(IFB/Feeble Minds)

RECOMMENDED

Writing this to mourn the loss of Shoppers; the word is that the band is finished. I got to see them once, but could only stay for a few songs due to all the fucking pet dander in the crawlspace they played in. I wish they were still a band. Maybe at some point they will try again, or more likely go on to something else. I wanted to see what else they would do, perhaps moreso than any other band around right now. Whatever their reasons, I wish them all the best. That makes this split 7” as much of a sendoff as it actually sounds like (“I.” features the chorus of “I’m so sorry/sorry/So, so sorry“, while “II.” Confesses, “I’m so tired“), these being the Syracuse trio’s two best songs, roiling with heavy, confessional lyrics and leveraging the wall of shit they churned out on their untouchable Silver Year LP. The riffs in this band just didn’t quit, and the way their sound forged such stability in the cluttered chaos of environment was one of the most indelible matchings of band to recorded representation I can think of. There won’t be another band like this for a while, though I’d hope for it; they made music that absorbed hurt, fear, anger, and being lost, and made something that inspires out of those dark places. Both Shoppers and Panzram play like they could have quantum-leapt out of 1995, the latter offering two songs of the sort of crunchy, anthemic screamo that was done so often back in the day that you wouldn’t think to want to hear it now. They realize that there’s still a lot of life left in that sound, and when done right, it affords a musician the chance to make audio chorizo out of their influences, obfuscating them behind multi-faceted arrangements that build up to a big, sweeping finish (see “Cause Celebre” on this record). Their Will Killingsworth recording might have confused the mastering engineer, who overdoes it a bit much on their side, but I don’t think either of these bands can be experienced in anything close to clean and balanced conditions. Great record, pick one up if you get a chance. Silkscreened sleeves. (http://ifbrecords.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Silencio
When I’m Gone LP
(Three:Four)

Swiss ensemble that rises slightly above the dreck and gives out a Talk Talk/Bark Psychosis-style ponderer with a little bit more weight to it. Started in 2008, then put down for a while and resumed in 2011, When I’m Gone faces boomy, muted, weighty sentiments against one of these neo-chamber ensembles that is about two nosehairs away from going full-on classical (and probably why they are SUISA-backed) if not for all the easy sentiments (“Down With the Ship”) they toss around with so much … gravitas. Maybe this review is only mildly positive because they have a long track called “Wasted Youth (Pt. I, II & III)” that has nothing to do with any other Wasted Youth I know of, but which tries to hammer those concave feelings into a template of sound where someone really thinks this is what a shitty upbringing sounds like. For once, one of these bummers really earns points for trying. 300 numbered copies, and ordering from the label will get you a crack at a bonus 7” single. (http://www.three-four.net)
(Doug Mosurock)

Skyneedle
Creepertown 7”
(Independent Press)

RECOMMENDED

Brisbane’s Skyneedle plies a refreshing stripe of avant “rock” that relies not on earsplitting electronics or feelbad atmospheres. Driven by an incessant hooting from some kind of pump-driven horn, “Howlway” shambles along in an odd danceable mode. Singer Sarah Byrne juxtaposes a sultry vocal with the mutating caveman rhythm, tunelessly plucked slack-strings and an intermittent low-end grind produced by something else entirely (presumably the “Speakerboxbass” as operated by one of the quartet of noisemakers, Alex Cuffe). With instruments like the “Strungpanel,” and the “Latex Leghorn Drum Machine” credited, part of this record’s fun is in imagining what these homemade doodads even look like. Owing to their design and the resulting arbitrariness of the pitches produced, they evoke a crude junkyard/industrial version of far-eastern folk music. And the instrumental B-side “Creepertown” has that in droves, accompanied by a stumble of sheet-metal percussion and more of that rhythmic two or three-note hooting that alternately recalls some of Elliott Sharp/Carbon’s early large ensemble works and/or Canada’s pep-peps of noise, the Nihilist Spasm Band. It would be tempting to pigeonhole this (inaccurately) in some kind of no-wave or even neo-primitive revival, but Skyneedle’s atavism is less ritualistic/confrontational and much more playful. It might be the influence of the medium here, but the unit also deserves credit for keeping these tracks brief, wrapping them up after ideas are explored with sufficient thoroughness and before they would meander into self-indulgence. The whole limited-to-200 copies shebang is packaged in a jacket screenprinted with high-contrast, retina-confounding patterns, only adding to its mutant appeal. (http://www.skyneedle.org)
(Adam MacGregor)

Slices
Still Cruising LP
(Iron Lung)

RECOMMENDED

The title Still Cruising suggests that Slices’ second album is the continuation of 2010’s Cruising, and sets up a few seedling ideas from that album to be worked over into an even better album. They have changed up their sound a bit and brought in a bunch of riffs that are more straightforward rockin’ than the immediate/prison riot HC lurch of previous efforts, played with a humorous sarcasm that wasn’t as evident before, and they show that strong personas can push through the cementheaded imperatives this music has had bestowed upon it by earlier practitioners, with their sloping foreheads and less lofty ambitions. Singer Greg Kamerdze, dropping the Mantooth moniker entirely, offers up lyrics that read as far more personal than on previous efforts, which bring up hard-to-face truths about the quality of one’s upbringing (“Horse Race”), the individual struggle to overcome it (“All My Life”), and the entropic pull to wallow in it (“Greensleeves”) – lofty goals for any band, and he does so with compassion beneath his throaty madman howl, an even greater feat. There’s also room for laughs, like the wishy-washy criticism of their band (“Slices Is Dirts,” ending with the self-effacing phrase “I guess I don’t like John/I don’t like Ovens/Mike/Or Greg“), and the disgust over inconsiderate gestures (closer “Mustard,” which you’ll have to figure out for yourself). When you’re not rockin’ along, or laughing, you’ll be thinking – about how these guys have flown past just about any other band in this kinda space in the world right now, reclaiming an unused portion of their brains to interject a real knuckledrag of a musical thought – really, some of this could be classified as the dreaded “punk ‘n’ roll” – with intelligence and the thoughtfulness needed to live as a mutant in a world of oppressive normalcy, and the insecurity that fuels it. Tryin’ To Make a Livin’, indeed. Pink and purple vinyl first pressing, you choose the color. (http://ironlungrecords.bigcartel.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

So Cow
GMT 7” EP
(Ride the Snake)

One of these songs is titled “Song For Outer Spacist”. Outer Spacist is a band from Columbus that will crumble to dust and be blown away by relevant music if anyone peeks underneath their reverb blanket and notices that there’s no song flying the plane. They tried to teach So Cow how to utilize this hustle, but these peeps deemed it too risky and went with another hat-trick, but rest assured it was a hat-trick revered by the enemy: The Blur-Of-Tedium-You-Always-Skip-Over-On-Any-1979-1982-DIY-Compilation-With-A-Heaping-Side-Of-Dan-Treacy package. I have no idea what it would be like to form a band, then model my art after the T.V. Personalities from the ground up and inside and out but stop short of adding anything original or inspired to the process. It’s crap like this that makes me an integrity apologist, which makes me really mad. When is a negative review not enough? Somebody walk these boys outside, please. (http://www.ridethesnakerecords.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Solger
Live at Wrex Seattle, Nov. ‘80 7”
(no label/bootleg)

Here is an artifact we might earmark for completists only, but a noteworthy piece notwithstanding. Recorded live at their last show in 1980, these two tracks capture Seattle’s early hardcore exponents Solger in grinding piss-fi. “Do Me a Favor” trots along at a “Police Story” tempo, with guitar wielded as a blunt object, and vocals harsh and unhinged enough to have been an influence on Blaine Fart (Fartz/The Accused), who must have then been but a scene-pup. The slop guitar solo that the drummer decides to sit out for whatever reason hammers home the pervasive lethargy that seems to have gripped the band by this stage. That continues over the lurching “Scheme and Fraud,” whose scuzzy drone of a riff sketches out something we might hear again a few years later on a Mudhoney record. Solger no doubt had a significant hand in shaping that sound – thanks be to what indifferent door-guys might have let the right underage fledgling rockers in to see this show and others like it. Raw Killed By Hardcore aesthetic is played to the hilt with a tasteless Kurt Cobain gun-in-mouth/brain blowout graphic. No insert, but your copy might come with an anarchy symbol scribbled on one side of the label.
(Adam MacGregor)

Thorsten Soltau/Preslav Literary School
split picture disk LP
(Corvo)

Soltau’s side is as fractious as the artwork suggests; turntable compositions that jump from here to there with kinetic indifference. His statement of intent is in German and mentions John Oswald, so keep a humorless version of that man’s work in mind when exploring this release. Preslav Literary School evinces as much overwrought, plaintive emotion as this act can out of a tape recording. The artwork on this side is a little more connected but no less busy or involved; the shapes of Cubist human figures spikes the uneven labyrinth depicted. Not sure why you’d want to listen to either unless your head is perfectly bald and you wear turtlenecks every day of the year. Monochromatic picture disk with hard-to-read screenprinted sleeve. (http://www.corvorecords.de)
(Doug Mosurock)

Spectre Folk
The Blackest Medicine, Vol. II 12” EP
(Woodsist)

RECOMMENDED

One of those “fell behind the shelf” deals here, and apologies for not getting to it sooner. Strident, well-composed rock ‘n’ psych jammers (JAMMERS) spearheaded by totally alright Magik Marker Pete Nolan. The tendencies that a couple of these tracks have for over-extension and indulgence doesn’t really steal focus away from Autobahn percussion (Steve Shelley guests on drums) and a full-band lineup that makes these as righteous as they need to be and some of the most commercial-sounding product Nolan’s made. Really fuggin’ sweet songs, with Side A chugging along in a Yo La Tengo/Spacemen 3 kinda way, and a twilight burner/downer in the spirit of Crazy Horse on the flip. Great record. Great songs and the right band to play them. Should be massive. Maybe it is? (http://www.woodsist.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Stacian
Pul 7” EP
(Moniker)

The focus song on here has a competent hook, but the sonic choice of “minimal synth” or who-gives-a-fuckwave, turns my whole maxim about great hooks on its head. Wait, this isn’t a great hook by any means, and “minimal synth” wasn’t a real historical moment in music by any means, either. It was just DIY new-wave and most of it sucked so bad that the law of obscurity worked correctly for a change, and lastly, I’ve critically declared this 7” the newest member of the “outgoing club” of my record collection. But before I go, I’m not sure if Stacian has even heard a bedroom-O.M.D. never-was artist from the ‘79 to ‘85 era, or if this record sounds like it does because a lot of other “cool” bands of today (or, you know, “cool” two years ago) sound like they do. But if any readers out there are going to form a band soon, or if Stacian is going to release any more music, can you go for some other sub-genre to ape? Stay away from the good ones … save those for the good bands to filch … but I really want to hear another style out of the boring, shitty music scheduled to cross my desk. I’m simply tired of this stuff. Black vinyl. (http://www.moniker-records.com)
(Andrew Earles)

State Champion
Deep Shit LP
(Sophomore Lounge)

Aesthetic smartasses who allow themselves to be pictured with a banjo and ukulele. That’s a no-no, you know. Americana played with hardcore energy and umph is how the entire Internet would like this band to be known for, but there’s way too much slummer-soup being slurped for this to enter my comfort zone. Supposedly a fiasco live, but most assuredly a safe affair on record. Record looks like a Cult Ritual release but sounds like Lambchop flirting, and I mean JUST FLIRTING, with the Load Records roster. Hey, third and last Load Records reference for a while. It was on the brain, unlike this record … now that I’ve had it off the turntable for five minutes. (http://www.sophomoreloungerecords.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Pete Swanson
“High Time” b/w “Trees” 7”
(Emerald Cocoon)

The fifth entry in Emerald Cocoon’s Alone Together series (named for the transaction between a solitary performer and a solitary listener) purports to be former D. Yellow Swan and current Baron of blown speaker techno Pete Swanson’s love letter to the Xpressway diaspora. “High Time” was Roy Montgomery’s contribution to the first Dadamah single, and “Trees” is the lead-off tune from the last Gate album. Both are, in their original incarnations, excellent tunes, and Swanson displays excellent taste as a selector, but I’m not so sure about what he does with them. Gate’s version of “Trees” is not so far from what Swanson does on his latest LP Man With Potential; both works hang some manner of grime upon a big beat. And the original version of “High Time” filters the get-in-gear moments of the first Velvet Underground album through the yin and yang of post-Ravenstine electronic play and archetypal South Island melancholy. Swanson has shorn both songs of beats, arrangements, and even tunes, reducing each to a gloomy acoustic sing ‘n’ strum laid over hard to touch synth squiggle. Through the miracles of mic placement and vintage tape technology, he has made something that sounds like the third iteration of Alvin Lucier’s “I Am Sitting In A Room” – either that, or a really bad recording job. Technically, Swanson knows just what he’s doing, and anyone with a cell phone could get a better recording if they wanted to, so I can’t say this is the result of incompetence or a limited selection of gear. But I will say that he’s missing something fundamental about each song. When Peter Stapleton recruited Montgomery, his old bud from the Pin Group, into Dadamah after an eight year separation, Montgomery promised that he would impose melody upon the group’s improvisations, and that’s exactly what he did. Why strip this away and replace it with the sound of a cheap stylus coated in dust? Likewise why turn a propulsive hoofer into a bedroom blues lament as heard from the other end of an echoey hallway? “Trees” was all about the tension between elements, something that’s sapped right out of this version’s Xeroxed degradation. Repeated spins have not yielded an explanation to the point of this exercise. The physical presentation adheres to the series’ high production standard, with a glossy fold-over sleeve, and the pressing of 300 comes on black vinyl. Essential if you have no dust bunnies to adhere to your needle and just have to have that sound. (http://www.emeraldcocoon.com)
(Bill Meyer)

STAB
Stab Nation Rising 7” EP
(Quality Control)

RECOMMENDED

Furious and blackened hardcore with some crust leanings out of Leeds. Female-fronted rage boils out of the grooves of these six songs, telling us things we’ve heard before but with the vitriol to upend history with sneering, war-like conviction. Take a fucking stand or you won’t amount to shit, because the boot is coming down sooner than you think. Great looking record too, with a die-cut printed sleeve that holds all the lyrics and charred, riotous imagery you would expect. As we head into uncertain times, music like this underscores what was once a threat into a certainty of a violent, dark, turbulent life ahead for us all. 99%. US repress coming out eventually on Painkiller. (http://qualitycontrolhq.bigcartel.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Les Suce-Pendus/Judas Donneger
split 7”
(Label Brique)

Odd but alluring French split single between two acts out of Amiens, a mid-sized town north of Paris and set a bit back from the English Channel. Les Suce-Pendus combines durable, tight post-punk rhythm section with guitar scrapes and squalls, almost in defiance of the directive to play three simple chords, and buttressed with agonizing screams and spoken pronouncements. All of this makes for a tense, danceable good time. Judas Donneger works from more modest means to create some plodding industrial thud with more elements of spoken word. These bands don’t seem like the best fit for one another, even as they try to out-abuse one another’s general harsh stances, but it’s cool to see that music of some quality is alive in locations all over the world. (http://labelbrique.over-blog.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Suuns
“Bambi” b/w “Red Song” 12”
(Secretly Canadian)

RECOMMENDED

Don’t know anything about this band, nor am I gonna look anything up, but “Bambi” KILLS at 45 pitched down to -8. Anything else is too fast, and brings too much to bear on what’s going on in the track, which is well-produced, with remarkable percussion and drum programming – not-so-secretly Canadian outfit Suuns make it throb along like Clinic gone down the rails of Devo’s take on “Satisfaction” and Detroit techno synths, oozing and detached and strangely alive. The track develops and washes over some amorphous clouds of guitar fuzz and a sleepy, dreamy vocal that loosens things up just enough to keep you guessing where things might end up. There aren’t any surprises here, other than I picked up a random and unassuming 12” single and it was this good. “Red Song” tries to get by on less, and all the busy magic that makes its A-side work so well is kinda lost here. But there’s half a killer record here, really just one song that any of you who like to dance to electronic music might want to check out. (http://www.secretlycanadian.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Tacocat
Woman’s Day 7” EP
(Minor Bird)

RECOMMENDED

First heard of this band as part of a Bikini Girl/Huggy Bear tribute compilation they appeared on. Fun bubblegum punk which accomplishes a few neat tricks that a lot of bands don’t think about: getting ideas across clearly, writing songs about concepts and stories without the abstract notions of poetic license getting in the way. “Oscar” is about a cat who lives in a hospital and comforts people who are about to die. “Sk8 Or Die” is about Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan; not sure if Jeff Gillooly is anywhere to be found … we have a song called “Partytrap” and a band that likes palindromes. You get it: it’s simple, colorful, melodically pleasing pop with a knowing, winking edge, and most of the band is comprised of ladies, which is awesome. I was a little bummed at a recent description I read of them where they/their music was referred to as “pothead,” particularly as they seem able to stay on topic for at least 90 seconds at a time. 500 copies, wrapped in Derek Erdman artwork and on white vinyl. Faith, Hope and Charity, meet Larry, Frampton and Chuy. They’re trying to help you out. (http://minorbirdrecords.blogspot.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Tee Pees
“You’re A Turd” b/w “Do the Smog” 7”
(Bachelor)

No, you are a turd for failing to intellectually or culturally advance beyond garage rock that Estrus Records wouldn’t take a piss on in 1994. Add all the non-necessity fidelity-lowering noise you want, I can still hear the gaping void underneath, and so will everyone else. This record sucked so bad that it peeled the paint from the walls and gave my cat some sort of infection that must be treated by an emergency vet because it is three in the fucking morning. Now once again … who’s a turd? Arrest these assholes … NOW!!! (http://www.bachelorrecords.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Teledetente 666
“Les Rats” b/w “Panna Sexe” 7”
(Sweet Rot)

Some dry “Franch Toast” here from a Seb Normal-produced duo out of Strasbourg, right on the Rhine. This one is a real downer electro-punk sound with stock percussion options that, when used effectively, indicate a deeper frustration and the need for immediate release. Does that make sense? When you use a canned beat, it’s sometimes due to necessity, or more likely apathy, and I think that apathy is often used to mask a greater dissatisfaction. These guys sound apathetic as fuck: “Les Rats” clangs along a medium-strength fuzz riff, like drinking industrial white vinegar straight, and “Panne Sexe” is more of the same: cold, stylish, minimal synth action which borders on industrial, much like Strasbourg borders Germany. You’ll dig this based on how much tolerance you have for this sort of control dynamic. (http://sweetrotrecords.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Tenement
The Blind Wink LP
(Cowabunga)

Pop-punk that doesn’t want to fit in the pop-punk bucket anymore is the new power pop, and the guys who make power pop are these days too often old pop-punkers who are trying to redirect their energy in less demanding ways; finding out how to get more out of the riffs and hooks that POPulate so they got something left to copulate with when some eager fan(s) present themselves after the show. Tongue-in-cheek gimmickry, like the later Black Flag-inspired intro to “Senile” abut long, strange, unsuccessful stabs at some sort of quiet ballad you’d find on some Foo Fighters record, vocal track coming over a telephone receiver and all sorts of tape manipulation and eerie, percussion-free backing tracks dressing up what is essentially a lullaby into a sloppy Lucero costume for Halloween. And still this record seems to hold up due to the three or four winners on here, just terrific, exciting, inventive guitar pop songs that’d make great bands like the Marked Men blush a little. As Tenement works it out across The Blind Wink, they seem ready to stop sitting on the Whoopee Cushion of pop-punk over and over and move onto something more personal, and perhaps more profound, but there’s less than half an album that’s worth celebrating here. But that’s a mighty strong less-than-a-half. (http://www.cowabungarecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Terrible Truths
s/t 7” EP
(Small Town City Living)

RECOMMENDED

Australia’s hit parade continues, now with Terrible Truths, a lady-led trio from Adelaide working the unadorned post-punk angle. This one’s great if you were looking for something unadorned and sinewy, geometrically correct post-punk plane drawings with great, uplifting vocals in the early Siouxsie/Annie Anxiety/Delta 5 camp. This sort of thing has been done so many times, and is very hard to get wrong – you need that groove, you need to work both for and against it, and you’ll achieve the rest based on what else you can bring to it. Guitarist Stacey Wilson and bassist Rani Rose understand this, and work with their own voices to bring a sense of urgency to the music. I will probably never get tired of this sort of thing and I doubt a lot of you will, either. Four great songs, with the side A tracks shining a bit more brightly (especially “Lift Weights”). Liam Kenny of Kitchen’s Floor plays the drums and boxes things in quite nicely as well. 300 numbered copies, gold vinyl. Grab a few. (http://terrible-truths.tumblr.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Test House
Bitemarks 12” EP
(All Hands Electric)

Further mid-’80s sounding synth/pop/house hybrids from Peter Schuette (Silk Flowers, Psychobuildings), along with James Elliott, who co-wrote these six songs with Schuette. Much like most of Silk Flowers’ work, this isn’t an easy record to categorize, the material working from a somewhat house-oriented blueprint of racing rhythms, then given melodies that work, but are a bit outside the expected simplicity (the Eastern electro tinge to the title track being a prime example). Think New Order records with a lot more play around the ideas, and evasiveness as one of the music’s primary tenets. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, but all of it reminds me of some Level 42 song I’d hear in the soundtrack to some ‘80s yuppie comedy like From the Hip or Oxford Blues, were those films as hip as they were sold as. Which is to say, this is pretty cool, and fans of Schuette’s other work will not be let down here (tracks like the closer “Blind” almost seem like a continuation of Silk Flowers’ work). Fine stuff. (http://www.allhandselectric.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

This Is Cinema
“Mädchen” b/w “Gloom Cookie” 7”
(Two-Syllable/The Whistler)

Open statement to my dearest friends, musical and writer-related entities based in NYC’s most popular neighborhood: I wish for a safe island or other beautiful location designed for your escape and survival because this type of music actually justifies one diabolical Brooklyn-bound blast from HAARP’s weather-gun. (Uh, these guys are from Chicago. –Ed.) There are two distinct forms of Bedford Avenue coke-party pretty-people garbage of no spark or necessity whatsoever. If it matters, the b-side features the ever-popular faux-’80s “sex-you-up” Flight of the Conchords falsetto vocals and hearing them makes me think of ways to actually stop This Is Cinema from releasing any further music. I am not playing around. We are officially within an era of terrifying problems when it comes to the general health and progression of a musical demographic that hits too close to home, and will guarantee a lack of new music with that special thing that made me fall in love with the form over 20 years ago. If that vanishes for the 18-to-24 age range in the next few years, we’re ALL fucked. Sure, this music isn’t “for me” and nothing this lifeless would ever make it into my house behind a voluntary liberation of cash and genuine curiosity, but when I was young, the equivalent DID, due to the search-and-gamble of early exploration. Just because folks can listen to stuff pre-purchase doesn’t mean proper discrimination is utilized, namely when an army of hive-mind, lobotomized bloggers are pushing it like crack. A wish for the creative forces behind This Is Cinema: Consciously make a full-length of this sort of baseness? May you be punished in a real and effective manner! As the Culture Conflict continues and sonic non-entities flood the scene, Musical Vigilantism seems more and more logical. Black vinyl. (http://www.whistlerchicago.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Trans Upper Egypt
North African Berserk 12” EP
(Monofonus Press)

Some guys from Italy hop on the doubletime groove train. They play an organ/gtr sounding brand of locopsychomotive orgy soundtrack a la Oneida, but their native accents place their English vocals in the ballpark of Neil Hagerty’s, which give these five songs – four and a half, really – the air of a Royal Trux, if not the product itself. They probably need to let this whole sound simmer for a bit longer until they can develop their own voice, one that depicts them honestly and without the need to emulate other currently active artists that do distinctively change with each passing effort. If you do not discern, though, stick this in Ihren Pipe und schmoken Sie, bitte. Silkscreened sleeve. 125 copies. (http://www.monofonuspress.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

TV Buddhas
“Hello to Loneliness” b/w “Just Another Day In My Head” 7”
(Staatsakt/Rough Trade Germany)

I used to like this band. That’s because this band is doing something good on this 7” and the EP released a short time back. But after visiting their site and seeing that they MADE A DOCUMENTARY ABOUT THEIR UNSUCESSFUL FIRST U.S. TOUR, AND IT IS BASED ENTIRELY ON SOMETHING WHICH ALL BANDS WORTH THEIR SALT SHOULD HAVE TO DEAL …well, I cannot recommend them with a clear conscious because they are spreading a poisonous message. This used to be something that the greats just weathered for a bigger cause, and this band has gone and made a documentary about it! The band-penned bio info promoting their tour documentary goes like this: “Band in the Modern World is a film about our first U.S. tour. Probably the saddest indie tour diary ever made, starring us. It shows us going around the U.S. in a car, losing all our money, getting stood up by promoters, and just trying to keep sane. We’ve been screening it around Europe here and there, in galleries, small cinemas, independent spaces.” You know, I was thinking of making a documentary about my first half-decade of writing as a freelancer. Other writers should know about all of the rejection, unreturned emails and lack of recognition, among other things, that I had to deal with – it would be the saddest career diary ever to receive documentary treatment. Fucking babies. Stop making music, as you don’t deserve its fruits. This 7” comes new as a sealed-on, so instead of the actual music on it, I recommend consumers purchase copies and mail them, unopened, back to the band itself, then write their label to let them know what you have done so that the purchase will be understood as a protest. Black vinyl. (http://www.tvbuddhas.com)
(Andrew Earles)

TV Ghost
“Phantasm” b/w “Panic Area” 7”
(Sweet Rot)

Hit-and-miss band delivers a miss. It’s in their typically dark, scary demeanor, but this time the scares seem so piled on and so part of some dramatic presence TV Ghost seems to be trying to bring to their years-long career of playing through every side of Anglo-American dark rock with guitars from Teenage Jesus up on through to Bauhaus. It’s hard to believe that a band which has made some pretty frightening music now needs to crafts its premise with the subtlety of a Halloween sound effects record. Hello, Miss! (http://sweetrotrecords.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Univox
“Tonight” b/w “Rug Stain” 7”
(Green Music)

The one-sheet claims Philadelphia’s Univox creates “progressive power pop”, but that descriptor, along with the stark black-and-white crust/sewage punx cover design, serve only to mislead about what is an altogether different and very cool beast. “Tonight” stomps forth with three spindly chords, impassioned group vocals and a definite Mekons/Elvis Costello vibe that fortunately sticks to the latter’s potential for acrimony. Univox’s strength is in those raucous, alley-cat choruses and codas, and the 3-minute epic “Rug Stains” is chock full of them. After a tearjerker verse anchored by a big “Leader of the Pack” drum beat, the quartet spins their inner ‘70s AOR AM dial, pausing on nods to Neil Young and Bowie before the kit-thrashing punker finale. We have here a solid offering with a lot of disparate musical ideas that manage to work without sounding the least bit obnoxious, praise be to Jah for that. This EP, their fourth, comes with the ubiquitous download code for the entire program plus bonus tracks and remixes. (http://univox.bandcamp.com)
(Adam MacGregor)

Vapauteen
Weld 12” EP
(L.I.E.S.)

RECOMMENDED

Dark, single-minded early ‘00s 4/4 distorted techno crunch across three tracks on a white label, courtesy of Led Er Est’s Shawn O’Sullivan. This could have come out on Clone or maybe Underground Resistance way back when. Dubstep is done for all practical purposes so we get the noise on top of it put back where it belongs, with steady, driving beats (at a reasonable fucking tempo, too, none of that laid back disco pace we’ve been working off of lately as an carefree antidote to the utter stupidity of where club-driven music has ended up) and dub-inflected percussive ricochets here and there. Funny because this is EXACTLY what I’ve been missing from dance music: filth, mystery, and nihilism subrogating the lives we live, the hours we spend working, commuting, taking care of our shit, the times that are no longer our own. The beat on all three tracks is ever present, unswerving; the effects over the top offering evidence of a depth that buffers the obvious with notions of VERY dark house (“Weld”), psych-trance (“Measure”) and Front 242-style industrial hijinks (“Mediate”). Throw this one on at 4 A.M. and you might have to call an ambulance and turn up the lights before it ends. Outstanding work, a total blinder. Sometimes the beat has to take care of itself. (http://www.discogs.com/label/L.I.E.S.++%28Long+Island+Electrical+Systems%29)
(Doug Mosurock)

Vaura
Selenelion 2xLP
(Wierd)

RECOMMENDED

It’s been hard to line up with a lot of what Wierd Records has released, despite almost all of it being appealing in some way, at least on paper. Vaura, a Brooklyn-based quartet featuring members of a lot of different outfits (from Kayo Dot to Gorguts … yeah) who are finding success in melding elements of stormy, moody shoegaze (like Catherine Wheel, perhaps) with Helmet-style precision and force, progressive rock/time-sig swingin’ swagger, and a lean into relentless black metal waterboarding to keep your focus on the dark side of this music. It’s the kind of thing that could break me in on black metal a bit more thoroughly, as it sounds so dependent upon the kind of records I enjoy. Colin Marston gives the recording a chrome-plated finish, and you can almost hear the wind rush around the guitars and powerful drumming. None of these songs – at least the ones of substantial length – seem to stay in the same place for the duration, and the way these four manage to integrate and transcend all of their influences constitutes a significant achievement. This is a big one, and I can see why it’s here instead of on some metal label, though this could be successful in a number of contexts. This might be the band that brings a lot of these aforementioned ideologies together into one sensical whole, certainly more than the frilly sleeve candlelit B.S. of, like, Alcest, or the single-minded sludge of Monarch. There’s a lot to discover in this one. Black and colored vinyl editions; mine’s a woozy red/purple streaked mix. (http://www.wierdrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Wax Museums
Zoo Full of Ramones LP
(Tic Tac Totally)

RECOMMENDED

There have been plenty of opportunities in the past 12 months to take a better look at the family of bands under the Wax Museums tarp (Video, Silver Shampoo, Wiccans to name a few that have been acknowledged recently in Still Single). We’ve always been a bit blindly supportive of the works from this Denton, TX group, and it is wonderful to hear that we weren’t wrong. Zoo Full of Ramones collects the brace of singles and comp tracks released by this band in the goldrush days of punk 7”/vinyl comeback offerings, when a band could crank out single after single for any number of fledgling labels and draw attention to itself out of sheer volume and credentials of the experience. Every one of the singles this band did between 2006 and 2008 for labels like Hozac, Douchemaster, Fashionable Idiots and Ken Rock is represented on Zoo Full of Ramones, and it is still a pleasure to listen to these Angry Samoans-borne, basement-dwellin’, soda-slammin’ grommets blast through a batch of jokey earworm pop-punk jams, cast off with little regard for decorum but holding up better than almost anything from the era. I got to see them play in 2007 and remember it fondly, and when “Stop … Don’t Stop” came on I couldn’t stay still. Uniformly excellent, raucous, no-brainer garage punk. Eternal pass given, though how did I miss that they’ve made two full lengths? Need to check these out pronto. Things get busy over here. (http://www.tictactotally.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

What Next?
“The Trip” b/w “Don’t Believe” 7”
(Whim)

RECOMMENDED

After a brief respite following the dissolution of “party band” The German Measles, here’s Serge and Dave (a/k/a the bespectacled fellow from Cause Co-Motion) along with drummer Chie (ex-The Beast) to pick it up with a new band called What Next? The results kinda skew back to where Cause was going, with a little more ambition about them, and a drive to add something to the sound, no matter how much they might stumble. One’s a cute l’il power-strummer, the other sounds like an amateur Television Personalities, deep into the psychomodo of They Could Have Been Bigger Than the Beatles, and if you are on the indie pop or twee axis, there’s nothing wrong with either of those things. Hand-painted and stamped sleeves, and perhaps a more “regular” edition coming for you soon. In no way have these people exhausted the potential of where this music can go, and they’re at the point where it seems obvious to them that they need to win listeners over with more than charm. And that’s exactly what happens here. Good stuff. And they know how to price their music, too. (http://whatnext.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

White Crime
s/t 7” EP
(Bummer Tapes)

The surveys are in: Being a dickhead of the highest order is still both fun and funny. White Crime cements their guilt gleefully in that regard by starting this offering with a sample of some annoying old bat griping about nuisance neighborhood kids driving without licenses. But past that, snot-punk it really ain’t. The murk-cloaked mix implies a scabrous, threatening quality further reinforced by the cover photo of some Texas state prison graduating class. “End of Change” plows right in with all cymbals bashing, the vocals a gruff garble over a relentless churn of guitar. It barely takes enough time to make its case before crashing straight into “Standby,” which bridges the trajectories of mid-period Husker Du and Naked Raygun/Pegboy, minor chords slashing across the sparest of two-and-four beats in a manner recapped on the flip side’s “Blacklist.” Meanwhile, “Feel it Hit” thuds along with a grim ferocity comparable to the Wipers or contemporaries Kim Phuc. “Don’t Come Out Tonight,” “Si Vas Vous Fle,” and “Waste of Time” round out the EP as a trio of zero-nonsense three- and four-chord fugues (though “Waste of Time” steps up the class with its hooky refrain of “‘cause you know it’s true/I wanna do it with you“). As bands continue to excavate the burned-out latrines left by the late ‘70s crop and popularized via Killed By Death and Bloodstains, we’re bound to see more of this kind of thing; and when done right, it’s a much more invigorating alternative to any ‘90s indie rock revival trash. Your copy might come with a CD-R of the same tracks, and note that side B spins at 45, giving you more of the same pill-grinding nihilism for your hard-earned dollar. (http://whitecrimeallthetime.blogspot.com)
(Adam MacGregor)

White Load
Wayne’s World III b/w Godfather IV LP
(Load)

RECOMMENDED

Looks like Load is getting friendly with previously-shunned bedmates like structure and riffs after threatening to do so since the Clinton administration. “I’ve got the rock people covered with Fat Day”. When the Reptilians or Greys or Burger Records enthusiasts (or whoever is fucking up the world right now) dig through the electronic detritus of my life, I hope they can have a cubicle giggle on company time like I did when I got that during an afternoon AIM-marathon with the proprietor of this label back in 1999 or so. White Load is spazzy as all hell like the band I mentioned in the opening paragraph. Add in some in-jokery so in-jokey AND out-jokey (there is no third Wayne’s World or fourth Godfather, get it?) and it looks like Load has got my attention yet again. That means it should get yours, too. Check this out with the FNU Ronnies LP and raise a fist through the ceiling for ancient labels bringing the goods when no one else seems to be able to. (http://www.loadrecords.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Wildildlife
Give In To Live LP
(Volcom Entertainment)

RECOMMENDED

Volcom scares the shit out of me, and much more so now that Torche is about to release what will be a career-moment on the “label”. Why? Cuz they got great albums and great bands like that one and this one alongside boardroom-created Warped-Tour focus-group experiments like Valient Thorr. That is also a fight for another night. Their labelmates Wildildlife seem destined for some sort of uncontrolled obscurity due to how out-fucking-standing of a band they are and always have been. Ever heard that debut CD-only release from around 2009? It will blow your eyeballs to the back of your head and make your earholes all oozy for the right reasons. This one will, too. Give In To Live was released last fall but no one seemed to notice, so I’m putting in my one cent of exposure so that one or two of you seek this shit out and get enlightened as to how it is DONE my friends. 1000 pressed and still $10 in most brick-and-mortar or online avenues. First 200 or 250 are on clear-and-red splatter, not that it matters yet. Seriously, make this band what they deserve to be made, seeing as how they’ve held up their end of the deal for you. Heavy as fuck with major overlaid and buried pop hooks…along with tons of psych mess. Kind of what I wish Rwake sounded like, and I have grown to hate myself when I publicly make write such lazy music-journo. (http://www.volcoment.com)
(Andrew Earles)

Woollen Kits
s/t LP
(R.I.P. Society)
“22/09/11” CS
(Fan Death)

RECOMMENDED

Whatever was missing with regards to legit/genuine undergrad punk/lo-fi response as provided by Woollen Kits’ first single is remedied here. They’re an Australian trio (two guitars and drums when I saw them, though there seems to be a bass on some of the album tracks), cut and decorated to fit in between the rancorous sentiments of non-mersh Midwestern American rocknroll and the soft, longing side of twee and indie pop. Certainly the band’s lyrics – usually in the “I will love you forever/But you must be true” sort of simple, idealized facsimile of 20^th century pop – could raise some eyebrows, as would the foghorn vocals of guitarist Tom (last name unknown), who at best matches the slumber party timbre of Calvin Johnson. Hey, it’s the voice the dude was born with, so I’m cutting him a break. It took a few spins, and seeing this band live, to get it all to click, and I’m happy to say that it now does, their overall blare and the uncomplicated, positive energy they pass around in concert mode (duly represented in Fan Death’s cassette/MP3 download of the Kits’ performance somewhere back home), somewhere in between the Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments and Beat Happening, a rugged sound with a lovable core. They’re two fine releases that further cement Australia’s current land-dominance of quality rock music.
(http://ripsocietyrecords.tumblr.com)
(http://www.fandeathrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Yale, Massachusetts
Act Like You’ve Been There 7” EP
(self-released)

Some dudes who I envision looking like the band in That Thing You Do but updated to Dorkpocalypse Now (oh look, I’m … right) attempt to use a lo-fi/lo-skill GarageBand style production technique to their benefit, attempting to fit big Weezer-style riffs onto seven inches of vinyl with a scuzzy interface. On the pop part they succeed, but on the sound tip they tread dangerously close to, well, danger – a band like White Load would chew them up and shit them out. I’m not as averse to pop-punk as I used to be, but five songs from this band seems like a lot. (http://yalemassachusetts.bandcamp.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Yi
Hostbody 7” EP
(Reeducation)

RECOMMENDED

Cool l’il punker/indie rocker from Bay Area band Yi, who turned in a fine cassette EP sometime last year. “Total Shit System” rides off fast with the sort of energetic, driven jangle of recent groups like Oxford Collapse and Meneguar, bordering on pop-punk but playing it smart enough to avoid the rotten parts of that sound. “Hostbody” provides a different look, a band that wants to maybe play a little tougher, with a seductively creepy vocal and squicky lyrics about parasite infestation. “Brain Party” fills up the B-side with the sort of working man’s melodic punk you might have anticipated from either of the other tracks, but it’s got good ideas and knows when to put them into play. If this band sounds a little untogether, they certainly show the promise that these parts of their sound will fuse into a geeky, righteous whole sometime very soon. Miniscule pressing (154 copies, in the spirit of Wire, maybe), white labels, packaged in recycled, painted newspaper for the most budget-conscious release I’ve seen in here for a while. Fun times either way, buddies. (http://yipunx.angelfire.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

The Zoltars
Should I Try Once More? LP
(Sundae)

RECOMMENDED

There have gotta be more bands active in Austin than in most American towns and I’m lucky that most of the good ones pay this writing any mind, as my limit on TV Torso has been reached. Not to besmirch the good name of the Zoltars, an Austin band of some great and rare quality, who with that handle might have you thinking about garage rock, a Cramps-style frozen dinner microwaved over and over. Not the case; far from it, in fact – this is an eery, delicate, church-like toll of despair, made by people who play the parts of agoraphobics quite well. The reverb and mannerisms at play put this closer to a Gary Wilson by way of Quix*o*tic sort of stance, and the album’s title towards the gentler tracks of the Zombies, but the Zoltars don’t act the fools here – instead they make aching, clean, uncertain-sounding pop music that’s too strong to be polite, but charmingly unsure of its strength, and plays its hand close to the chest in the name of profundity. Picture the Supreme Dicks in the carport with the engine running and you’re in the right ballpark. (http://www.sundaerecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Zulus
“Surgery” b/w “Demons” 7”
(Lemon Session)

Second single from NYC trio, featuring engineer du jour Jeremy Scott and ex-Battleship frontman Aleksander Prechtl. Noisy, more or less direct rock on both sides, with an interesting tug-of-war between shambolic and tribal/direct rhythmic approaches. Certainly sounds runic enough for a band such as this, with “Surgery” keeping things on the short and kinda manic side, and “Demons” breaking through for a massive, anthemic coda. Review doesn’t make it sound like much but Zulus seem to be going for a classic, iconic sound in a rewarding and faithful manner that is not often done well at any level these days. Didn’t blow me away but it’s certainly no slouch, and one would assume they will get better and better with each release. (http://www.lemon-session.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

Various Artists
Bring Beer LP
(12XU)

RECOMMENDED

You have to figure that a town like Austin has so many goddamn musicians in it that some of them are worth your time. But when you have over a certain number of people in a place like that making music that is on the side of good/memorable, those folks need a place to get together outside of a bar, and of course you can only invite people to your home so many times before it starts to get old. Trailer Space, an East Side record store that opened in 2008, is that place, an informal hub for all sorts of activity, some of which may involve music. I love this store and have stopped in on each subsequent visit to Austin (since that first night, when I pinched that Garbage & The Flowers double LP for the unbelievable price of $5.99, and Sex Vid played with Fucked Up on the retail floor). Because this place is so important to the ecosystem of bands/people/interests in town that basically have their backs to the dam of shit ready to burst out at any given time, whether they realize it or not, Trailer Space is deserving of recognition. You can watch bands there (for free), play some video games, some darts maybe, or get into long and argumentative conversations with whoever is there on anything from sports to … well, that’s all I’ve witnessed. You might also get shown the door, though, and that is why Trailer Space rules. There are a lot of subtle but effective tactics that keep a store like this going in the right direction, which I’m sure you’ll experience if you go there. Austin resident Gerard Cosloy has as solid a lock on the things that matter in that town as anyone, and this is the third compilation he’s assembled in as many years which shows us the depth of talent/loose and friendly presentation worthy of any proud scene. Strung together with some out-of-town offerings by folks like Chris Brokaw and G.Green, Bring Beer also serves as another great primer by a guy who knows not how to present anything otherwise, as a sampler for his 12XU label, and as a benefit for Trailer Space, which will be accepting any profits from this comp. It was rejected by Record Store Day as an affiliated release, but you know what? Fuck them. Lots of surprises and expectations met/exceeded within, including a better look at James Arthur’s Manhunt, some tuff shit by Cruddy, a solid Golden Boys outtake (from their new 12XU release Dirty Fingernails, also depicting Trailer Space on its cover), and a track by Carolee which was so good I went out and bought her EP. See? It worked. It always does. (http://12xu.net)
(Doug Mosurock)

Various Artists
The Harrisburg Players, Vol. 2 7” EP
(Columbus Discount)

RECOMMENDED

Anti-fi all the way, these five quick, all-star songs jumps into the fire on this EP, a nice snapshot recalling the solidarity and vibe of a label like Datapanik, which is a wonderful thing indeed. T.A. Lafferty’s killer, tin-can drum machine punk “Consolation Prize” begs for a cover from, I dunno, Nazi Gold or something. Ron House hanging with the Players covering his own (uh, Great Plains’) “Our Love to the Third Power” sounds, as you might expect, as completely like a Ron House song as anything Ron House has ever sung. Mike Rep’s “Pumping Gas” is a fast campfire goof that could have appeared in 1942 or 2014. On the B, Ted Lust asks “Am I Lying to Myself,” a question that many solitary young men recording on equipment likely very similar to whatever Mr. Lust is playing into, while the titular crew yells “Gusto Hundry” at themselves a few times. There will and should always be a place for stuff that sounds this casual, this much like music-as-community; lo, these many years, I have not tired, and will never tire, of stuff that sounds like this. God bless Ohio. Probably only available on eBay or randomly, but also worth anything under $15 you pay for it, especially if yr a Buckeye punk completist. (http://www.columbusdiscountrecords.com)
(Joe Gross)

Various Artists
The World’s Lousy with Ideas Vol. 9 7” EP
(Almost Ready)

RECOMMENDED

After a certain absence – probably just Harry putting out about four dozen records between then and now – the esteemed World’s Lousy series returns. These are good compilations overall, with worthwhile bands giving up tracks far better than the throwaways you may have come to expect from the realm of comps/splits. Cheater Slicks light up “Silver Fox” for the last call crowd, Thee Spivs punch up the tough and rockin’ “Men Don’t Cry,” and Psandwich unearths the moral outrage of the Fun 4’s tastelessness-über-alles anthem “Singing in the Shower.” A hell of a way to spend 7 minutes, or 7 dollars, a good ratio for fun. (http://www.almostreadyrecords.com)
(Doug Mosurock)

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

Yours must be a single (or vinyl-only album) pressed on any size of vinyl. We will not review CD-R copies of a vinyl release – you need to send the vinyl itself, even if it includes a CD. We need the artifact here with original artwork, not some duplicate/digital copy. Only records released within the past six months will qualify for a review.

ANY genre of music is accepted for review. Do not be afraid.

Information on your pressing (quantity pressed, color vinyl, etc.) should be included if at all possible.

Submissions can be sent to:

Doug Mosurock
PO Box 3087
New York, NY 10185-3087

Records need to be shipped securely in sturdy mailing materials and marked FRAGILE because the post office will destroy them otherwise.

Keep sending in submissions, please!

By Dusted Magazine

Read More View all articles by Dusted Magazine