October and the Eyes – Dogs and Gods

I actually discovered this album because Aldous RH on NTS played a song by her called ‘Tit Pic’ which is just fantastic and so I went looking for it. I can only find it on Spotify. Boo. I want to buy the thing. Someone tell me where I can buy the thing.

This is a very good second prize, though. It sounds to me like it’s a one-woman band, and also like she gives as much of a fuck about conventional production wisdom as I do. Example – dogmatic in ‘proper’ production land is the notion that you foreground the vocals and the drums, and if you can fit the rest of the music in, well, so much the better. After all, that’s how The Beatles did it and apparently all originality in rock music became impossible from that moment forth because they had Done It All. Ms October, on the other hand, wants you to hear her fucking guitars and basslines and stuff, and guess what? You can actually hear her singing as well, so it is possible to foreground everything. There’s a lesson there.

Obviously I know nothing else about her because I am lazy and don’t research, but I do like the music she makes. And I do hope Tit Pic is on an album/E.P. that is available to buy, I really do.

Rape Tape – Прочь

So this is another Russian bus, with a few more stops this time.

Some people don’t like getting on this bus because of what they named it, but when you look into their reasons for doing so, then it seems to me that these are thoughtful human beings who are ultimately amongst us good guys, so the ride has to be worth a go.

Now, I don’t speak the lingo so I don’t understand the signs and frankly I can’t even map the cyrillic symbols even slightly to sounds that I associate with words. So, I’m going on overall sound and feel alone, and let me tell you, I really enjoyed this ride.

Russia make good buses. I’m particularly looking forward to the next multi-stop ride from Shortparis.

Fruit & Flowers – Drug Tax

As if by magic, the floor was clean. Kevni was a fairly average specimen for a lifeform of his ilk, though moderately and comparatively more powerful than his brethren, for reasons not immediately obvious. This was because his ancestors had ballooned into this sphere several significant generations ago and now Kevni and his kin controlled all they surveyed, progressing the natives according to a thing they called a doctrine, whereby one must always seek constant growth of an imaginary consequence. Now, whilst the average reader might immediately grasp the possibilities of implementing such a philosophy for a predominantly spiritual quest, and indeed some families did indeed follow this path, the overall outcome was the most influential were Kevni’s forbears who established what you might term a monopo-fucking-ly and controlled much of the communication. They playfully allowed different modes of conduct within their framework, worded in such a way as to seem intractably opposed when their intended ends were still the same, and these usually resolved into seeming dichotomies of one system demanding that all worked together centrally controlled toward a supposed group growth, whilst their ‘opponents’ utilised the same small number of elite although they made them appear as if they were changeable, and these could then use their people in a much more insidiously exploitative manner. But the object of both was to grow, and grow they did, so Kevni’s dynasty was happy. Naturally, this became troublesome to their landscape, which acted as though irritated. Eventually a glutinous fog descended their world, slowly at first, then gradually more thickly and menacingly. Naturally, there were varied explanations. Those in favour of the perpetual growth model said it was symptomatic of something called a ‘climate change’ and urged everyone to buy replacement products that were ‘environmentally-friendly,’ which actually had no effect on the fog but allowed more of a substance called ‘money’ to change hands ultimately into the hands of Kevni and the gang. Others claimed that the fog was just part of a cycle in the environment that would happen anyway, species-led or not, and that they should just sit it out and not give in to any of this scare-mongering tactics. However, the fog really was quite toxic, and eventually they all died fighting each other for the last habitable bits of land that had resources for living off, which eventually dwindled to none. Not even the family Kevni survived.
Kevin had just applied a cream to a troublesome spot on his shoulder which had begun to bother him recently.

Ecstatic Vision – Raw Rock Fury

In a still loud but otherwise quite contrasting way, this is the just-released second LP from Ecstatic Vision. I have no idea what their first is like, also having no idea how I stumbled across this – when I did, I was only able to hear You Got It or You Don’t, but I was sold on that thing alone. But now I can listen to the whole album, well, damn Daniel, the whole thing is just mighty fine.

I would personally describe this as a kind of garagey-punky-classic rock from the 70s/80s done by psychonautic blues-heads, so maybe The Stooges mixing it up with early-ish Whitesnake after a spliff ; also Endless Boogie who were much more recent. Nudity also come to mind, and a lo-fi White Hills. They mention Hawkwind which is also a good call if you imagine them at their most Motorhead-y!

This is psych-rock for a sunny day with the windows down. If there was any justice I’d hear this coming from every third car that drives past.

Muy Biien – Age of Uncertainty

Back in the day, I used to discover music by listening to it on a thing called a radio. One of the many good things about this was that a disembodied voice, usually but not always called a DJ, would tell you the name of the artist making it. I took for granted at the time how useful a service this was. Because now I discover all new music by reading about it, or coming across it by chance but still relying on the written words to know a) what the artist is called and b) how the fuck you actually pronounce that name. Because more than 10 years after I discovered Oneida, I still don’t know how you pronounce that word.

Muy Biien join that illustrious list (which does have more than 2 entries) of names you need to hear someone else say and hope they’re pronouncing it correctly. They also join the very illustrious list of music good enough to become a Soundberg.

If you want a genre, I suppose you would probably say post-punk as the nearest. The opener actually has a groove and delivery similar to Violator-era Depeche Mode, like Michael Gira singing Personal Jesus (which was and is fantastic). Because I don’t listen to radios any more, it’s possible that there are a host of artists I could say for comparison as I keep getting nagging feelings of familiarity. But a definite reference is Magazine, and also some of one time member Barry Adamson’s solo work in the 90s, particularly where they take on the dubbier, groovier grooves. Also, if I still listened to radios, I would probably be saying that ‘Mara’ and ‘Moral Compass’ are flat-out hit singles, but I don’t listen to radios any more so I just get down with the fine songs that they are.

You can also hear some of their ambient roots of their beginnings in a few of the later tunes, a mixture which works really well. Although this album is definitely towards the more polished end of the spectrum of music that I listen to, the material is good enough to work in pretty much any context.

Narcosatanicos – Body Cults

I’ve been looking forward to this, having been properly into their debut, so much so that they’ve been one of the few acts I check in on every now and again to see when something might be coming. This does not disappoint me, being more of the same but more so, and also a bit different. It is continuing proof of my conviction that the merger of brass and heavy guitar freakouts is a thing of great beauty.

I referenced Monoshock and Puffy Areolas first time up, and they still hold true. But I would also add a strong Stooges groove, occasional Hey Colossus sludge, an occasional veer into Bad Seeds-esque territory and they sound familiar with Swans recent work.

In other words, it is loud and it is aggressive, it is not for the faint hearted, and, oh yeah, I really, really like it. Also, it was available to buy a week before the date on the page, because that’s when I bought it.

 

 

Zulus II

II is my introduction to Zulus, who also have an album out that isn’t called II, as research on their website has just informed me.

Zulus describe themselves as an attempt at being a pop band by four guys who have since proven clearly unable to write pop songs, which has to be one of the best descriptions I’ve ever seen a band give themselves. They have quite the list of associated acts between them who I have listed in the tags (in case anyone got here because of that and is wondering what this has got to do with anything, a sensation that many of my posts bring out in people).

This is gnarly stuff. I’m reminded of Fugazi and I’m reminded of Puffy Areolas and I’m reminded of Burnt Skull. This is proper in your face, but by god, it doesn’t half get its groove on as well. I’ve been proper eating this up. It’s happy hardcore, in that this is hardcore that makes me happy.

It’s out on Aagoo records, who also brought the wonderful Inutili to us.

 

Destruction Unit – Negative Feedback Resistor

If you like your music obnoxious and gnarly, but not necessarily short, then Destruction Unit are for you. Roaming similar sonic alleys to those frequented by Puffy Areolas and Narcosatanicos (but without the brass), Destruction Unit are very much at home in your face.

I really like their manifesto, you know. Let me quote a line I really like: “This is crazed-psychedelic-freek-noise guerrilla warfare and these are our streets.” Elsewhere, they exhort the breaking of chains and the seeking of your personal freedom, themes this blog wholeheartedly endorses.

But they also provide you with the sonic energy to help fire up your will to achieve said results. They give as they play, they’re on a mission. What sounds like chaos is just them rendering all the bullshit into its constituent parts and giving it back to the listener in a much more highly useful form. We owe these warriors, let us give them their due salutations.

Rakta

Why genres are moronic, part 1.

I assume Rakta have their tongues firmly in their cheek by labelling themselves as ‘world.’ Therefore, I have honoured them by doing the same. Technically, of course, it is true – they are from Brazil, and Brazil is in the world. So, of course, is the UK, and therefore, The Beatles are ‘World’ music. To claim otherwise is to start down the road to cultural imperialism, and to get completely lost in the delusion of separation. Believe me, I will have much more to say about this. Anyway, on with the music…

I discovered these through the pages of Maximum Rock’n’roll, which one of our librarians has set up as a library subscription because he likes hardcore punk. I’ve seen the words ‘garage,’ ‘psych,’ ‘tribal,’ ‘all-female,’ and indeed ‘Brazilian’ used in describing this music. Me, I love the energy. The actual album is on my list of things to buy on payday (I’ve discovered loads of wonderful music recently), so I here present you with an embed of the single.

While I’m at it, here’s a video:

and here’s an interview.

Narcosatanicos

As will no doubt become apparent to the more regular reader that may find their way here, my philosophy of attempting to describe music using words is broadly the same as my philosophy of describing anything that isn’t words using words – it can only ever be a guideline at best. Part of this minimalist approach to music ‘reviews’ is inspired by Tiny Mix Tapes and other such sites – why not just submit your work to the International Journal of Cultural Studies and be done with it? Quoting French philosophers is simply a way of saying you don’t know how to describe something. As is inventing new genres so that you can seem like an authority on something (I’m looking at you, Vaporwave).

So, to the point then: I really, really, really like this album by this band. It is loud, it is aggressive, it is repetitive, and it is not for the faint hearted. It has a saxophone in the mix which really works and makes me think the word ‘skronk’ even though I have no idea what it means. It always makes me feel energised and positive after listening to it, which you may not necessarily think from something that tries to describe itself as being the aural documents of a bad trip.

Nearest reference point that I can think of – Puffy Areolas in discussion with Monoshock. What?

Guess I can feel at least two more future posts coming on…